


Compound Fracture

by Lady_Kit



Series: Broken Bones Multiverse [3]
Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: Broken Bones, Eating Disorders, Fluff and Angst, Graphic Violence, Hurt/Comfort, Multi, No Smut, Non-Consensual Body Modification, Non-Sexual Bondage, Non-consensual themes and elements, Papyrus centric, Polyamory, Rape Recovery, Sequel, Sexual Slavery, but there are sexual elements and themes, chapters tagged individually, mostly the AU Papyrus-es, possible drug use, slowburn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-11-10
Updated: 2018-12-09
Packaged: 2019-01-31 13:55:45
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 15
Words: 53,483
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12683283
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lady_Kit/pseuds/Lady_Kit
Summary: In which some begin their recovery, while others must watch as their world burns around them.Pray that they can rise from the ashes._____________________________________Warning: This is a sequel to an existing work and will not make sense unless you read that first. This series contains dark and disturbing content, in addition to fluff and more light-hearted moments. Chapters will be marked with trigger warnings as needed.Here be monsters, and not all of them are nice. You've been warned.





	1. This is incredibly unsanitary

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Edge pays a visit, and Paps is actually very easy to motivate.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger warning: eating disorders, oblique references to sexual assault, and off-screen torture and death.
> 
> (Believe it or not, this is actually a pretty happy chapter overall.)

Edge wiped the snow off his boots and knocked crisply on the door, waiting for Blue’s voice to ring out before he entered. Blue poked his head out of the kitchen to greet him, beaming when he saw who it was. “Hi, Edge! What brings you here? Did we have plans? Oh, no! DID I FORGET—“

Some of the tension left his shoulders, and his perma-snarl relaxed into something that was almost a smile. “No, pipsqueak, we didn’t have plans. I’m here to see your brother.”

“Oh.” Blue walked into the living room, wiping his hands off on a towel. “Did you two makes plans, then?”

Edge’s sockets narrowed, and he cocked his head just slightly. Blue sounded almost…hopeful. That was. Odd. And strangely disconcerting. “No. …why?”

Blue smiled, but it was forced. Edge’s brow-bones furrowed. “No reason~!” the smaller said cheerfully, “I’m just happy to see you’re comfortable dropping by like this! It’s nice to know you feel at home—“

“Blue. What happened?”

His forced smile fell apart. “I— Nothing. No, really…nothing happened. It’s just….” Blue looked up at his brother’s door. “Why don’t we talk in the kitchen? I was about to start dinner. I can make enough for—“

“I’m not hungry.” There was no way he could eat. Not right now.

“…Oh.”

Edge really hated the expression on Blue’s face, features frozen with worry and uncertainty. He looked away, uncomfortable with Blue’s concern. “I’m fine. It just…wasn’t a good day.”

“Do you want to talk about it?”

Bitter laughter bubbled up, and Edge shook his head. Some things should not be shared. Especially not with Tale-verse monsters. “No. No, I do not.” He would much rather just erase it from his memory entirely, but that wasn’t possible. He stepped past Blue and into the kitchen, allowing the warmth to seep into his bones. Oddly, he found the scent of cumin incredibly comforting. “So? What’s wrong with the ashtray?” he asked as soon as the door shut behind Blue. He froze again, and Edge crossed his arms. “That’s why you wanted to talk in the kitchen, correct?”

For a second or two, Blue just stared at him, then the surprise faded and he sighed. “I don’t know,” he finally said, “He’s been…listless. More so than usual. I was hoping that you two had made plans. It would be good for him to go out for a bit. He hasn’t really gone anywhere except to Rus’ and Sans’ for Movie Night. Red’s been over a couple times, but they just stand outside Muffet’s and smoke.” Blue hugged himself. “I’m worried,” he said, looking up at Edge.

Edge was not prepared for the pang that Blue’s words inspired. He had to resist the urge to reach up and rub a thumb over his sternum, as if he could soothe the ache from his soul that way. “I see. Anything else?”

Shaking his head, Blue looked at the ground. His jaw was tense and his posture stiff. “Edge…what happened in Underfell?”

The question shouldn’t have surprised him. Blue wasn’t stupid—a consummate puzzler, he was more than capable of putting the pieces together—nor was he one to stand aside when someone was in pain, particularly if that someone was his brother. Nevertheless, Edge hadn’t been prepared for him to bring it up so bluntly. He’d expected some subtle prodding, the kinds of questions that would allow him to play dumb. This, though? He couldn’t feign ignorance now—not unless he wanted to start blatantly lying to Blue. Sighing, he sat in one of the kitchen chairs, unsurprised when Blue turned the burners off and joined him. “We were separated, briefly. Your brother suffered for it.”

He didn’t say, ‘I’m sorry’. He didn’t say that he was supposed to be looking after him. He didn’t say that it was his fault (or that he had no other choice). Those things, he thought, didn’t need to be said; they were already obvious.

“Edge…that doesn’t answer my question.” Edge turned away, not speaking. Blue scooted closer, going so far as to take hold of Edge’s hand. “Please, Edge. I only want to help him.” He shook his head minutely. Blue’s fingers tightened around his. “You don’t need to protect me; whatever happened…I can handle it.”

Chuckling, Edge shook his head more firmly. “Nice try, pipsqueak, but this isn’t about you or what you can and cannot handle. It’s not mine to tell, that’s all. The ashtray doesn’t want to talk about it? That’s his business. It’s not my place—or yours—to force him. Or pressure him. Right now, all you can do is what you’ve been doing. Offer to listen. Be there when he needs you. Give him space, if that’s what he needs.” He didn’t say that Blue should also watch his brother for signs that he might be Falling Down, in part because he thought Blue didn’t need the reminder, but mostly because he didn’t think Paps would Fall.

The lazy orange skeleton was stronger than he thought he was.

This conversation had reminded Edge that he came here with a purpose. “He’s in his room?” Blue nodded, and Edge stood. Perhaps this could provide Paps with some comfort. (Stars, he hoped so.)

“…Edge?” He paused in the doorway. “Will you stay for dinner?”

“…I already told you I’m not hungry.”

“No—I mean, I know. I meant…will you stay, even if you’re not eating? We could watch some NTT afterwards or maybe play a card game—you still haven’t taught me how to count cards—or we could—“

Edge held up a hand. “I think I get the idea.”

“So? Will you?”

Edge looked between Blue and the kitchen door. Then, he nodded. “Yes. I can stay for a while.” He needed a break, he thought, from Fell-verse bullshit. Blue grinned in response—the first real smile from him Edge had seen that day—and Edge’s soul pulsed. His face started to heat, and he escaped into the living room before the magic could color his cheekbones. Mentally cursing himself for being foolish and sentimental, he took the stairs two at a time and—not bothering to knock—barged into Paps’ room.

The other skeleton jumped and scrambled to sit up. “stars on fire, fuckfell—didn’t anyone ever teach you how to knock?”

“Somehow, it never really came up,” Edge said blithely, looking around the room. His mouth curled in disgust. Under his breath, he wondered how Paps managed to actually sleep in this squalor. Meanwhile, Paps watched Edge warily, fingers pressing into the mark on his sternum. Edge was too busy prodding the sock pile with the toe of his boot to pay him much mind, though.

“so…did you stop by just to criticize my décor? or is this a social visit?”

“Dirty socks and a fucking trash tornado do not qualify as ‘décor’, you lazy ass. And— _stars above, please do not tell me you sleep on these sheets!”_ He stared at the lumpy and, _ugh_ , crusty bundle of balled-up sheets.

“well. not really _on_. more like…with?” Edge covered his sockets and took a few deep breaths. “you okay, there, edgelord?”

“I’m trying not to scream, because if I start, I won’t stop.”

Paps snickered, and he leaned back against the far wall, his hands coming to rest in his pockets. “nah, go ahead; ‘cause if you scream, and I scream, then maybe we can convince blue—“

“If this is leading up to a joke about nice cream, I will end you.”

“…you sure know how to kill a punch line, don’t you?”

“Well, technically, killing things is part of my job description.” Suddenly, Paps was looking at him with wide sockets, and Edge rubbed at the spot between his brow-bones. Fuck. He hadn’t really meant to say that. Clearing his throat, he started toeing the trash and the dirty clothes into separate piles. “I didn’t come here for banter, actually.” Asgore’s horns, was that a dirty plate? With _food on it?_ Sneering, he toed the plate to the side, trying not to gag.

Paps looked between him and the growing piles. “do you want to sit down or something?”

“On what? Your filthy mattress? No, thank you, I’ll stand.” He moved away from the piles, straying further afield to continue sorting out the mess. Carefully, he said, “I have a question for you. It may be upsetting.” He paused in his sorting to eye Paps. “If you do not wish to answer, then I will respect that.”

Paps pulled one hand out of his pocket to clutch at the collar of his hoodie. “…alright.”

Letting out a relieved breath, Edge went back to sorting. Why in the world did Paps possess so many socks? (Well that was a stupid question; clearly, he didn’t bother to actually wash his socks, instead buying new every time and allowing the dirty ones to collect in a pile on his floor. _Ugh_.) “I have something I’d like to you look at. It’s a picture—” It was a screenshot, actually, but Paps didn’t need to know that. “—of a pair of monsters. A Knight Knight and a Madjick. I need you to let me know if they’re the correct monsters.”

He dared a quick glance at the other skeleton; Paps was staring at him, sockets wide and shoulders drawn up toward his earholes. “y-you caught them?”

Edge looked away, pushing a half-eaten bag of chisps into the trash pile with his foot. “Something like that.”

_(Standing on the border between Waterfall and Hotland, one hand resting on the bone club slung across his shoulders. A pale of bone spears to guard his back. Watching Muffet approach, garbed in pink and twirling a delicate parasol between her fingers. “Hello, dearie. You wanted this personally delivered, didn’t you? Ahuhuhu~.”)_

“Are you willing to take a look?”

“i—“ His fingers tightened and he drew his knees up toward his chest. “you just need me to make sure they’re the right monsters?”

Edge nudged another plate—crusted with dried out honey, _stars above_ —into the ‘dishware’ pile. “Yes. If you’re willing.” Paps curled around his knees, long arms looped over his folded legs. Closing his sockets, Edge pushed one last sock into the pile. Then he walked over to kneel beside Paps. “It’s okay. You don’t need to—“

He was not prepared for the other skeleton to wrap his arms around his chest, or for the strength of his grip. He most certainly wasn’t prepared for Paps to press his forehead into Edge’s sternum, curling into him for shelter and comfort. Edge froze briefly, not sure what to do with himself. Then the tension eased out of his frame and he pulled Paps in close, resting his chin on top of Paps’ skull. One hand he looped across the taller skeleton’s lumbar vertebrae, the other dipped under his turtleneck to hook through the collar he kept hidden. Closing his sockets and settling into a more comfortable position, Edge dug deep and started projecting. / Strength / Stability / Security / Control /.

Never mind that the mattress they were sitting on was filthy. He’d concern himself with that later. Right now, he focused on murmuring soothingly and giving Paps something solid to cling to. “i’m sorry,” Paps said suddenly.

Edge looked down at him, brow-bone raised. “For what?”

Paps flinched a little, and Edge’s brow-bone crept higher. “for being like this,” he said, gesturing loosely.

“Like what, Swapshit?”

The slighter skeleton shuddered in his arms. “nothing. never mind.”

But Edge thought he knew what Paps was referring to. He had a Papyrus’ pride, after all, and no one liked needing help or feeling weak. Edge had no idea how to reassure him, though. He could only hold him tighter and squeeze his cervical vertebrae lightly. “I should be thanking you, actually,” Edge said.

“for what?”

Edge allowed more tension to ease from his joints, and he really leaned into the hug. “I think I needed this,” he said, only realizing how true it was after he spoke. He’d intended to find a roundabout way of assuring the other monster that he wasn’t being a burden…but his soul was actually starting to hum pleasantly and he had to admit that this was. Nice. Very nice. He sighed quietly, then cracked his sockets open and complained, “Though our environs leave much to be desired.”

“…do you have a word of the day calendar or something?” Paps asked abruptly, pulling back to look at him. Edge gave him a questioning look. “i mean, ‘environs’? really? is that actually a word, or are you making shit up?”

Edge rolled his eyelights. “Your vocabulary is sorely lacking. If I were you, I’d be embarrassed that an undereducated gutter-rat had managed to surpass my facility with language.”

“hey, edgelord, you still have that brick in your inventory?”

“Yes. …why?”

“ ‘cause if i ever hear you call yourself a ‘gutter-rat’ again, i’m gonna have to hit you with it.” Then he gently touched their teeth together in a chaste kiss, swiping a phalange across Edge’s mandible. The light contact caused heat to spark along his jawline and his features to flush with magic. Then, just as suddenly as he’d done it, Paps pulled away to lean against Edge’s chest again. “so,” he began, taking a breath to steady himself, “this picture?”

Edge blinked and shook his head a little to clear it. “Yes. The picture. You’re…are you certain you want to see it?”

Still leaning against him, Paps nodded. “i’m ‘certain’.” Edge reached into his jacket’s inner pocket—he’d shed his armor in the cave that housed their machine, deciding that he didn’t need it to visit the Tale-verse—and pulled out his phone. When the right image was on screen, he showed it to Paps. He sat up a little, taking the phone from Edge’s hand. “this. this is them,” he said, breath hitching. “i—“

Edge pulled him closer and kicked up his projections. “Easy, Swapshit. You’re here with me, in your filthy-as-fuck room. You’re safe.”

Sockets closed, Paps nodded, but he resisted when Edge tried to take the phone back. “so. what now?”

Edge sighed. “Do you really want me to answer that? Think _carefully._ ”

Paps glanced down at the phone again, looking at his two attackers. They were bound, in the picture, and stashed somewhere dark and dank, with only a single bulb to illuminate the cramped room. “just…tell me they’ll never hurt anyone else again.”

Edge’s shoulders relaxed. That he could do. “I can guarantee it.”

“good.” With that, Paps allowed Edge to take the phone back—and he promptly erased the picture. He settled more solidly against Edge, sockets closed and breathing steady. If Edge permitted, he’d probably fall asleep like that.

Edge, meanwhile, stroked a hand over Paps’ skull, scratching his coronal suture and occipital bone. His soul unknotted slightly, grateful that Paps had eased his mind a little. He’d already decided that the other monster didn’t need to know the Madjick and the Knight Knight were already dead. If he ever took the time to consider it, he might guess that Muffet had been the one to capture—and kill—them. However, being Tale-verse, he would probably never guess, nor did he ever need to know, that she had also given Edge a disk when she’d handed over their dust in an old coffee can.

_(“You want to be sure, don’t you?” Winking at him as she passed the disk over. “That these are the right monsters?”)_

She knew him too well. Knew that he would have to watch the video, to verify that she hadn’t simply dusted two random monsters and passed them off as the Madjick and Knight Knight. Everyone looked the same once they dusted, after all. Though he hadn’t really been able to watch all of it. She’d taken her time working them over, letting out all the aggression and rage his trick had roused in her. After all, these two had failed her and they, unlike Edge, were within reach. He’d only been able to watch for a minute or two, then he’d fast forwarded to the end, verifying that she did, indeed, kill them. So he’d seen them dust…and he’d seen her turn to the camera and blow him a kiss.

It really had not been a good day.

So he was grateful for Paps’ presence, and he could only hope that the other skeleton could find comfort in knowing that his attackers had been neutralized. He deserved that peace of mind. Still, the state of this room was starting to make Edge antsy, and as Paps began to drift off, he decided that something needed to be done about that.

Standing, he shook Paps awake, saying, “We’re going down to the kitchen.” Paps blinked at him blearily, then shrugged and followed Edge downstairs. He paused when Edge immediately went to the sink and started rummaging under it, pushing some of the solidified attacks that Blue liked to experiment with out of the way. Blue, at the stove, had tried to greet them, but his words trailed off as he watched Edge. “Where are you cleaning products?” Edge demanded. Blue and Paps exchanged a puzzled look, and Blue told him. Pointing at Paps, Edge ordered him to follow.

Soon enough, he was prodding Paps back up the stairs, both of them loaded down with various cleaning supplies, including a bucket, sanitizer, a vacuum cleaner, and a roll of trash bags. “…edgelord, i think i know where this is going, and i’m not sure i like it.”

“We’re cleaning your room,” Edge said firmly, leaving no space for argument. From the kitchen doorway, Blue peered out, one hand over his mouth to stifle his laughter.

Frowning, Paps said, “you know, last i checked, it was _my_ room, and the mess wasn’t bothering _me_.”

Shouldering open the door, Edge set down the supplies and surveyed the room, figuring out how best to tackle it. “This—“ He gestured to the room. “—is not just a ‘mess’. This is unhygienic, appalling, and frankly, depressing as fuck. I don’t see how you can stand to live in this squalor.”

Paps was glaring at him now. “you know, this isn’t underfell. you’re not my ‘boss’.”

“No, but Blue’s too nice to kick your ass into gear, so I suppose that just leaves me.”

“blue’s not my boss either!”

“Tch. Well, if you expect me to spend any time in here at all, then something needs to be done about this so-called ‘mess’.” With that, he stripped off his leather gloves and exchanged them for rubber, then started scooping trash into one of the bags.

Unexpectedly, Paps was busy beside him, piling socks and dirty clothes into a hamper for washing. Edge hesitated, watching with narrowed, suspicious sockets as Paps stacked the dirtied dishes near the door. Pausing when he noticed Edge’s scrutiny, Paps smirked. With a wink, he said, “well, lookit that. guess i can be helpful when properly motivated.”

It took Edge a minute or two, but he replayed their conversation and realized exactly what he’d said to ‘motivate’ the other monster. Magic warmed his cheekbones. “That wasn’t what I meant!”

“if you say so~,” Paps said, still smirking. But still cleaning too, so Edge just rolled his eyelights and let it go. It took a while for his blush to fade, though.

Blue sought them out hours later. By that time, the room was almost clean—it wasn’t up to Edge’s standards, exactly, but it was tolerable—and dinner, Edge realized, had probably been ready for a while. Blue peered in at them, grinning broadly. “Wow, Papy~. It looks really nice in here!”

“thanks, bro,” Paps said as he surveyed the room. He stood a little taller and his chin was lifted, whether he realized it or not.

Edge looked around and said, arms crossed, “The floor should be steam-cleaned…but it’s been vacuumed, at least, and the walls have been scrubbed. It’ll do. For now.”

Paps, grinning, sidled up beside him and slung an arm over his shoulders, drawing him in. “so? comfortable enough to spend some time in here~?”

Immediately, Edge’s cheekbones flushed and Blue giggled. “That’s not— I didn’t mean—“ He sighed loudly, pretending magic wasn’t still heating his features. “You are impossible.” Paps just grinned in response, apparently pleased by the label.

“Well, if you guys are finished,” Blue said, “why don’t you wash up for dinner?” Edge was about to excuse himself, but Blue pressed on, saying, “Since it looked like you guys would be busy for a while, I went to Alphys’ and got a movie for us! It can be like a mini-movie night!” He was bouncing on his feet, excited and eager, and his eyelights were blown wide, the stars dancing in his sockets.

Even knowing that Blue was doing it deliberately, Edge still couldn’t say no—because, even if he was purposefully showcasing his excitement to influence Edge, his eagerness and joy were genuine nonetheless. Besides, Edge had already agreed to stay for dinner—he ought to keep to his word. “Alright, pipsqueak. We’ll meet you downstairs.” He knuckled the top of Blue’s head as he passed by, and Blue beamed up at him.

After the two Papyrus-es washed their hands, they made their way down to the dining room, bickering good-naturedly as they went. Blue was waiting for them, with a veritable mountain of nachos set dead-center on the dining room table. He had his hands behind his back and his chin up, grinning proudly. Edge couldn’t actually fault him for it—even he could admit that the display was impressive. Cheese sauce—no doubt homemade—was draped lovingly over the chips, and scoops of guacamole, freshly chopped tomatoes, thin-slices scallions, olives, black beans, and even a few leaves of cilantro were sprinkled overtop. Visibly trying to hold back his excitement, Blue said, “I thought nachos might be fun~!”

Edge knew that wasn’t the only reason he’d prepared nachos. Blue had remembered that he found it easier to eat if he was sharing the plate with someone else, and he was hoping to entice Edge. Ordinarily, Edge would have been a bit irritated. Perhaps irrationally so. His brother was constantly trying to get him to eat more, constantly pressuring him and pushing at him. Which, honestly, wasn’t as helpful as Red probably thought it was. But this…even if he knew what Blue was doing, knew his aims and goals, it had been executed subtly enough to allow Edge to keep his dignity. And Edge appreciated that.

So he smiled slightly and said, “It looks delicious, pipsqueak.”

Blue very nearly danced in place at the praise, and he beamed as they sat down to share the meal he’d prepared.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So. We're doing this, I guess. A warning--this may get darker than Broken Bones, but I will continue to post warnings in the notes. Stay safe everyone!
> 
> And I would be remiss if I didn't mention Askellie's influence. In response to a (terrible) drabble I wrote, they posted an absolutely [brilliant short story](https://askellie.tumblr.com/post/167192788806/up-in-smoke-swapfell-papby-non-con) as "inspiration". (If you follow the link, be sure to read the content warning. This is not a happy story.) And, boy, was I inspired. 
> 
> So thank you, Askellie! This probably wouldn't have happened without you! Or SansyFresh, or Rehlia, or an anon I've been calling Rocklife. Each of them have contributed in different ways, and if Askellie lit the fire, then these three provided the kindling. Thank you all!


	2. Shattered glass and burnt sugar

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which no one is having a good time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger warning in the endnotes.
> 
> Cautionary note: Okay, guys, we're taking a trip to Swapfell. There's no easing into it. We go in hard and fast, and it doesn't get better. It's all terrible, but it's several different varieties of terrible.

Slim tucked his phone into his pocket, finished sending Red a text that, yes, he would be joining them for Game Night, whatever the fuck that was. Honestly, he was fairly certain that Blue and Rus were just trying to find as many excuses as possible to get the Fell monsters to join them in one of the more peaceful universes. It was nice, though, being able to take a break. To just. Get away from all of this.

Glass shattered in the room at his back, and he flinched, soul pulsing. He bit down on the sucker between his teeth, trying to keep his breathing even. His fingers itched to dig out his earbuds and stuff them into his earholes…but he _needed_ to listen to this, needed to know what his brother was suffering. He may not be able to do anything to help him—not without getting one or both of them killed—but he could at least bear witness. No matter how much he wanted to just block it out. The door banged open, and Slim flinched away, clutching the front of his jacket. Cold red eyes settled on him, and his gaze immediately dropped. The queen just crooked a finger. “Come here, dog.”

He nodded demurely and followed her into the other room. Razz leaned against the far wall, his cracked socket sealed shut with fresh marrow and congealed magic. He held his humerus at the shoulder protectively, likely shielding a hairline fracture from further harm. His gaze settled on Slim, and his working socket went wide. Then he schooled his features and looked back at Toriel. “Apologies, my queen. I will try harder. I can find them. I know it…but I need time.”

She settled a heavy hand over Slim’s cervical vertebrae, squeezing. “You keep saying that, Sans,” she said, sounding tired rather than angry, “and I am growing impatient. Every day that lizard is allowed to run free, the resistance grows stronger. Do you understand how important this is? Or maybe—“ Her eyes narrowed, her fingers growing tighter. “—maybe you still think she’s your _friend_. Is that it?”

Razz’s socket went wide and he stepped away from the wall. “No. _No_ , my queen. I am loyal to you—only to you.”

“Are you?” she asked, gaze calculating. She sighed loudly, as if she was speaking to a recalcitrant child and not the captain of her guards. “Friendship. Love. Kindness. These things are _illusions_ , Sans. You only leave yourself open to betrayal if you put your faith in them.”

Razz swallowed, his gaze dropping. “I…I know, my queen.”

“You can’t trust anyone,” she said slowly, pulling Slim forward until he was directly in front of her and facing Razz. “Not even family.” Slim kept his head down, his gaze fixed on a spot on the floor between them. He worked to keep his breathing even, but his chest hitched with every breath nonetheless. “Perhaps your dog has become a distraction,” she said, one hand still resting on the back of his neck while the other settled on top of his skull. He didn’t dare move, didn’t try to fight. Killing intent poured off of her; all she’d have to do was scratch him, or put just a little more pressure on his neck or skull, and he’d be dust. “Is that why your search is taking so long?”

Razz spared him only a brief glance before he focused all his attention on the queen. “No, your majesty. Alphys is cunning and clever. She is…more experienced than I am. I _will_ root her out, but I need time.” Toriel didn’t remove her hands. Her eyes were fixed on Razz, watching him carefully. Razz’s gaze never left hers.

Taking a deep, shuddering breath, Slim gathered himself and said, “majesty, sans has been working himself down to the bone trying to find them.” His voice was raspy and weak, but audible nonetheless.

For a frozen moment, no one moved or spoke. Then Toriel turned him to face her. She shifted her hands, moving one hand to grip his clavicle while the other cupped the side of his head. It was no less threatening—her intent was still sharp and focused. “Oh?” she asked, head cocked to one side. “Is that so?” She glanced between him and Razz, mouth curled just slightly.

He pulled the sucker from his mouth, ignoring the way his fingers trembled. “yes, my queen. it’s been a skele _ton_ of work, but he’s been completely _dogged_ in pursuing them. he’ll definitely find them soon.”

He didn’t dare do more than glance up at her briefly, dropping his gaze as soon as he registered the considering look on her face. She forced his skull up, and he had no choice but to look at her. His soul twisted nervously, and his eyelights shrank to pinpricks. Leaning in closer, she said, “You are very, very lucky that I find you amusing.” She released him abruptly, shoving him toward the door. “I expect results. You were both incredibly expensive investments—you’d best earn your keep.” Razz started to follow his brother, but the queen caught him by his injured arm. “I’m running out of patience, Sans. If you cannot be relied upon to serve as my guard captain, then I will find _other_ uses for you.”

Razz nodded firmly, chin up. “I won’t disappoint you, my queen.”

“You already have.” With that, she turned away and waved them off in dismissal. Razz stared after her for a moment, teeth parted and socket wide. His fingers curled and one hand reached up to touch the royal emblem that buckled his cape to his epaulets. Then his features firmed and he swept toward the door, cape billowing dramatically behind him.

Out in the hallway, Razz ordered, “We’re going to Grillby’s. Let’s see if he’s managed to dig up any new information.” Slim’s sockets went wide, and he held a hand out in front of his brother, halting him. Razz glared. “What?” he demanded. Unable to face his brother’s stare, Slim looked down, but touched first the corner of his socket and then his humerus just below the shoulder, mirroring Razz’s injuries. Pale violet magic rose to Razz’s cheekbones and he turned away, swallowing hard. “It’s nothing,” he said, voice husky. More quietly—likely speaking to himself—he added, “Nothing I didn’t deserve, at least.”

Slim could not abide that. He reached for Razz, but his brother dodged, not allowing Slim to make contact. “You are correct, though,” Razz said, tone more considered than usual. “It wouldn’t be wise to venture into Hotland sporting obvious injuries.” He glanced at Slim and, shrugging, said, “You’ll just have to go on your own, then. Do not disappoint—” Registering his words, he took a shuddering breath and turned toward the docks. Slim held out an arm again. It was always a risk, accepting a ride from the riverperson—and a senseless one, given Slim’s abilities. Razz just ducked around him and continued on. Over his shoulder, he ordered, “I expect a full, detailed report when you return.”

Shoulders slumped and head bowed, Slim watched him go. His soul ached, but he had his orders—and he should, honestly, be grateful Razz had made even this small concession to his injuries. A quick shortcut, and Slim found himself in a back-alley in the heart of Hotland. Dipping a hand into an inner pocket, he pulled out a crumpled pack of cigarettes and lit one, holding the smoke in his ribcage and allowing it to sear the underside of his sternum before he exhaled heavily. While the cigarette burned down, he took a few minutes to organize his thoughts. Tugged his jacket sleeves into place. Pulled his hood up, despite the heat. Took another long drag. He burned through two before he managed to get his hands to stop shaking with suppressed rage.

He would kill Toriel, if he ever had the opportunity. Razz would hate him for it. Might even kill him for it. But Slim could accept that, if it meant his brother was finally safe from her.

He discarded the cigarette butt and popped another sucker in his mouth, shoving his hands in his pockets as he left the alley. He kept his gaze down and his shoulders hunched. None of the monsters he passed afforded him more than a glance. Most of them were just trying to go about their lives—trying to scratch up enough G to feed their children despite the crown’s crushing fines and taxes, or to navigate through Hotland’s winding streets without getting mugged by a rebel thug. Not everyone had such innocent motives, though, so he kept a careful eye out.

He passed a very unhappy-looking Woshua scrubbing graffiti off the wall—probably called in from Waterfall for this job. Slim paused to eye the tag, brow-bones furrowed. A few letters had already been worn away, but the message remained clear enough.

_RISE!_

Slim hurried away before anyone could take note of his interest. His destination was just ahead in any case: a small, unassuming candy shop. The glass window was barred, and the painted lettering was starting to peel. But the stoop was swept and clear of graffiti. Like any good citizen, the owner had a wanted poster nailed to the door. This one featured Undyne’s likeness and stats, as well as a list of her crimes and a reward. In other words, the shop looked much like any other on the street. For such a—heh—flamboyant monster, Grillby liked to keep a low profile.

When Razz started using him as an informant, Slim had taken a look into the fire elemental’s affairs. He owned property all across Hotland. Warehouses, primarily, but he also owned a bar even Slim considered a dive…and a small candy shop. The bar had come first—rumor said he’d won it in a card game, but Slim honestly didn’t know how much of that was true—but about a decade ago, Grillby had apparently taken a sudden interest in candy-making and rented out an existing shop…and a warehouse. More warehouses had followed soon after.

Neither Razz nor Slim believed for a minute that the warehouses were used to store supplies for the candy shop or the bar. However, Razz was willing to turn a blind eye to Grillby’s less savory businesses so long as the elemental continued to provide him with good information. Slim thought it must be very convenient, being able to sic the guard on his competitors, but Razz hadn’t liked that little comment. Not at all.

He pushed open the door, causing a bundle of bells to ring. A small fire sprite perked up as soon as he walked in, twisting its flames and dancing in greeting. Slim couldn’t help but smile at it and wave. Head cocked, it trilled in question, twisting into the shape of a lollipop. Slim shook his head and eyed the door behind it. Reverting to its natural shape—that of a rounded, roughly star-shaped fireball—it darted behind the counter, off to fetch its boss. Slim waited, surveying the selves. Jars of candies in a multitude of colors, flavors, and varieties lined every shelf. It was an impressive display, especially for a business that was, really, just a front for his other activities.

“See something you like?” Slim turned, magic crackling between his fingers. Grillby smirked, propping his chin on his fist as he leaned on the counter. “Didn’t mean to startle you, sugar~.” The elemental, the same shade of blue as the heart of a candle flame, regarded him from behind reflective glasses, obscuring whatever might serve as his eyes. The way he tilted his head and the way his mouth curled made it obvious he was amused, though. Slim flushed slightly, and he dropped his gaze. Grillby chuckled, the sound like the pop of burning wood. “To be fair, I’m just as surprised to see you. By yourself, that is. Is the captain too busy to drop by and say ‘hello’ to his favorite elemental? Shame.” He winked. “Guess we’ll just have to have a little fun without him. Happiness is the best revenge, after all~.”

Slim swallowed and slipped his fingers into his jacket sleeve, claws catching on the raised scars. He wished Razz were here. Razz wasn’t just comfortable with the elemental’s flirting—he reveled in it. And Slim…Slim just didn’t know how to respond. He glanced at Grillby. “captain’s busy,” he said stiffly.

Grillby’s grin broadened, the flickers of white flame between his lips almost like the flash of teeth. “Come on back then. I was in the middle of a batch, and molten sugar waits for no one.” Slim hesitated, resisting the urge to glance at the window behind him. Being in public view offered only meager protection, though—no one would interfere, even if Grillby decided to dust him on his front stoop. Though the guard might fine him if he didn’t sweep up afterwards. Besides, Sans knew where he was, and Grillby had plenty of incentive to stay on the guard captain’s good side.

Seeing his hesitance, Grillby’s smile widened. “Something wrong, sugar? C’mon, now. I don’t bite~. You may want to take off your coat, though. It gets a little hot in here.” Slim clutched his jacket protectively, making the elemental laugh. “Suit yourself, sweetheart. Can’t say I’m not a little disappointed, though.” Violet magic painted Slim’s cheekbones, and he ducked his chin, scrapping his fingers over his sternum.

Reluctantly, Slim followed Grillby into the kitchen. A fire salamander perked up as soon as they walked into the room, stirring briefly from its nest of coals to eye Slim skeptically. Grillby trailed a fiery hand down its back, causing sparks to flare. It made a happy trilling sound, then settled back into the coals with a happy groan. “Do you have any pets?” Grillby asked unexpectedly.

He walked over to the metal countertop and shooed a bevy of fire sprites away from a dense hunk of red candy. He hefted it, and the flames that made up his hands flared, shifting from cool blue to a warm orange. He rolled the red lump between his hands, then started to knead it. Meanwhile, the fire sprites busied themselves with a ribbon of white candy. They tucked their limbs into their round bodies and rolled across it, warming and flattening the ribbon.

Almost against his will, Slim’s gaze flicked away from the sprites to fix on Grillby’s hands and exposed forearms, fascinated by the play of pseudo-muscle under pseudo-skin. He jolted a little when he realized that Grillby was eyeing him in return. He huffed, crossing his arms and turning so he was facing the wall rather than the other monster.

Grillby just chuckled and answered his own question. “Ah, forgive me—I forgot. You’re the pet, aren’t you?” Slim went very, very still, gaze fixed ahead of him. His tense posture did not go unnoticed. “Oh-ho, don’t tell me I’ve struck a nerve~! I’m only teasing.” Slim’s claws dug into his sternum, causing pinpricks of pain to flare. Muffet wouldn’t be happy with him when she saw that—they had a rule about him hurting himself like this, and while he’d been trying to comply, it was difficult.

“you have new info or not?” he asked, voice low and scratchy from disuse. “ ’m not here for small talk.” He smothered a self-deprecating laugh, but Grillby really seemed to like that, for some reason—he laughed harder than the comment warranted.

“No, I suppose you’re not.” He started twisting the red material between his hands, shaping it into a thick rope. “Too bad; I wouldn’t mind the company~.” Slim clenched his hands, not sure how to take that. His soul twisted with discomfort, and he swallowed tightly, silently willing the elemental to just _stop_. It was confusing, and his comments and intonation kept knocking Slim off balance. “Ah, well. Let’s see…information….” He hummed contemplatively. As he did, some of the fire sprites began gathering around the red rope. “Nothing substantial, of course. Only whispers. Rumors.” Grilly shrugged dismissively, but he tilted his head and smirked just so, hinting at more.

Slim’s eyelights rolled skyward and he held in a sigh. “how much?” He eyed the sprites, cocking his head slightly as they began tugging and twisting the rope.

“Papyrus~,” the elemental purred, causing Slim to jump and accidentally meet Grillby’s gaze. He shivered a little, caught off guard by the, well, the _heat_ in his tone. People only rarely used his name, and no one ever said it like…like _that_. Grillby’s smile stretched unnaturally wide, white fire dancing between his parted lips. Something inside of the skeleton clenched, setting him on edge. “ _Now_ we’re speaking the same language.”

The word-play was so unexpected that his soul loosened immediately. Slim snorted and ducked his head, grinning fiercely at the phraseology. And if there was a thread of bitterness in his smile, there was relief, too. Bad jokes—edged with just the barest hint of cruelty—he knew how to handle. “There it is,” Grillby said, and Slim dared a quick glance at him. “I thought you might be hiding a sense of humor somewhere. That coat’s certainly large enough.”

Slim’s fingers curled and he shrank into said coat, tucking his face into the ruff and resisting the urge to pull the hood over his head. Off balance all over again. Unable to find his voice, he turned to watch the fire sprites, his features flushed a faint violet. The sprites had finished flattening the red rope and were now busy heaving the ribbon of candy onto the white strip. Then they started rolling them together. They were very diligent. Hardworking. Watching them was soothing, actually. He took a breath, forcing his throat to unknot. “your price?” he prompted, barely able to force the words out.

“I don’t suppose you’re willing to pay in trade, are you?” Grillby asked, leering at him. Slim froze in place, his joints locking up. Was that—? Was that a joke? He wasn’t _serious_?! Was he? He _couldn’t_ be serious!

In either case, Slim was done. Soul knotted and fingers digging deep furrows in his sternum, he started toward the door. Razz wouldn’t like it, but…Grillby’s information couldn’t be all that valuable if the gold-loving elemental was willing to forfeit G in order to screw _Slim_ , of all people! Then Grillby was in front of him, hands upraised in placation. “Easy, there, sweetheart. I was only teasing. No worries, right?” He smiled gently, ushering Slim away from the door.

Slim, still clutching the front of his jacket, realized suddenly how _hot_ it was in here. Stifling, really. And the scent of burnt sugar was starting to make him feel sick. Sweat dripped down his spine, but he glared up at Grillby and held a hand between them, allowing violet magic to dance between his phalanges. He might not have Razz’s stats, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t a threat.

Grillby just sighed, a sad smile touching his mouth. “No need for that, sugar. Like I said, it was just a joke—a joke in poor taste, but only that, nothing more. Now, why don’t we negotiate, hmm?”

Slim didn’t say anything, just waited for him to name his price…and for the icy hand gripping his spine to loosen. Grillby eyed him for a few seconds, then made an offer. Slim looked him up and down, surveying his posture: loose and relaxed, leaning toward Slim, but not giving any sign of aggression. Slowly, Slim shook his head and gave him a thumbs-down. Mouth twisting, Grillby made another offer, lower this time. Another thumbs-down. Finally, Grillby, looking very put-out (heh), sighed and made a reasonable offer. Slim gave his assent, and Grillby’s grin grew sharper. “I think I like negotiating with your brother better~.”

Slim’s head jerked up, but before he could really consider what Grillby might be implying—if he was implying anything—the elemental was already saying, “The new taxes are stirring up unrest all over the Underground, and Alphys has been taking advantage.” Slim raised a brow-bone. That was hardly new information. Certainly nothing worth the G on offer. “Rumor says she’s going to be hosting a rally, but when and where hasn’t dropped yet. They don’t like to reveal that information until the last moment. Keeps the dogs off their tails, right?” He winked, and Slim had to bite down to resist the urge to grin despite himself. “I’ll send a runner when I have more details.”

Slim nodded and counted out G, setting the gold on a nearby scale for Grillby to see. Counterfeit coins had been flooding the market lately, which was not helping the economy any. Worse still, it seemed that the crown’s real coinage was being skimmed. After all, it was easy enough to shave a sliver of gold off the edges of a coin. To the naked eye, it would look no different, and the skimmer got to pocket the remaining gold. However, both the counterfeit and the skimmed coins were the wrong weight, so many shopkeepers were starting to use scales to weigh out G before completing a transaction. Grillby had been one of the first to start doing so, in fact.

Grillby nodded approvingly, then said, “Will that be all, sugar~?” Slim considered buying more suckers, but honestly, he still had a decent supply, and at this point, he really wanted nothing more than to get out of the stifling heat and away from this monster. As if sensing this, Grillby grinned. “Suit yourself, sweetheart. You know where to find me when you run out. Or, you know, if you’re interested in a little something extra~.”

Slim pulled away, keeping at least an arm’s length of space between them—which Grillby seemed to find incredibly amusing. As the elemental turned back to the metal countertop, though, one of the little elementals waved at Slim, and the skeleton couldn’t help but reach out and rub a thumb over the little monster’s head, earning a quiet trill. Grillby watched the exchange silently, his expression unreadable…but his scrutiny made Slim uncomfortable. He hurried out of the kitchen and past the counter. Slim tugged the hood back over his head as he stepped out into the street, his shoulders dropping out of their tense posture.

He could hardly wait to get back to Snowdin, even if a knot was starting to grow in his soul as he thought about reporting back to his brother. This really wasn’t much to go on, and all they could do now was wait. Razz hated waiting. Slim swallowed tightly and dug out another sucker, immediately sticking it between his teeth to bite down. The pressure between his jaws was welcome, and he let out a shaky breath as he slipped into a back-alley—checking the shadows as he did so. A quick shortcut, and then he was back in his room in Snowdin.

Taking a deep breath, he slow pushed open his door and listened, cautious as always. He stepped out into the hall and walked over to Razz’s door, raising his hand to knock. Then he heard it. Barely muffled by the thin door, the rhythmic sound of bone hitting leather. Slim’s soul felt like it was being wrung out. He shut his sockets and pulled his hood even lower, allowing the fabric to swallow him up. A silent litany ran through his mind—begging his brother to stop, not to do this to himself. He put his hand on the door.

He should open it. He should go in there and pull his brother away, stop him, show him that he didn’t have to do this, that he was hurting himself. He needed to do something. Anything other than just _stand there like a fucking_ lump. Why was he so—?

 _(_ **USeLEss. AT leaST s2 SHoWs prOMise _._** _A cool hand turning his face from side to side._ **Of COUrse, NoW the QUEstIoN is: wHAt tO do WIth YoU?** _)_

Despite the silent litany, he still couldn’t bring himself to move, just leaned his forehead against the door that separated him from his brother. Wishing he had the strength to open it. But he had always been weak—of body, of will. No wonder his brother was ashamed of him. (He was ashamed of himself too.) No wonder Razz always pushed him away. It’s not as if Slim could do anything helpful anyway. Just as he was about to leave, though, his phone buzzed, loud in the otherwise quiet house, and the sound beyond the door suddenly stopped. Oh. Oh, no—

He staggered back, seconds before the door was flung open. Razz stood on the other side, glaring at him. Behind him, the punching bag still swayed. A thin healing matrix cushioned Razz’s strained knuckle joints, spent magic dripping off his phalanges. He’d wrapped his arm—also weeping magic from the break along his humerus—and cleaned up his socket, but his eyelight was out and he still couldn’t open that socket more than a fraction. There were also traces of violet staining around his sockets and cheekbones. Not just on the injured side, either. “You have news?”

Slim’s throat immediately closed up, and he realized that he was not going to be able to say anything—too paralyzed by feelings of helplessness and the knowledge that Razz was not going to like what he had to say. Hesitantly, he nodded, then touched his forefinger to his thumb and mimed writing. Slowly, Razz’s perma-scowl shifted into a sneer. “I am willing to indulge your little handicap only so far, dog. I suggest you untie your tongue, lest you _lose it_. Am I clear?”

Slim nodded, unable to point out that threats really were not going to make it any easier for him to speak. Or that it really didn’t make much sense, since he didn’t actually have a physical tongue anyway. Shaking so badly his bones audibly rattled, Slim took a few deep breaths and tried to find his voice. “he—“ It came out as more of a soft hiss than an actual word. He looked at his feet, one hand pulling the hood down over his skull more firmly. He pretended he couldn’t hear Razz’s foot tapping impatiently. “s…s …ere’s g…na—“

“Do you think this is a joke?” Razz asked, voice pitched low. Slim frantically shook his head. He wasn’t joking—he just. Couldn’t talk. He was trying. He really was. “I honestly don’t know which I find to be more damning. You’re either too stupid to know how serious this is or so _broken_ you can’t even manage to string a series of words together. Fine. Write it down, if you must.” Under his breath, but still audible, he added, “This is the last time I trust you with anything.” He slammed the door shut, and the rhythmic slap of bone on leather started again, louder and faster.

Slim’s soul unknotted immediately, and in that moment, he hated himself. Hated that he couldn’t do anything to help his brother, to stop him from hurting himself. Hated his weakness, his uselessness. Hated especially the relief that flooded him as soon as Razz’s gaze wasn’t on him anymore. His shoulders curled inward, and he hung his head, breath hitching. Then he pulled away to seek out a pen and paper. As he sat down to write out a quick report, his phone buzzed again, and he checked it. Two messages, both from Red, waited for him.

_r u coming?_

_hey beanpole get ur ass over here or imma come get u._

A small smile touched Slim’s mouth as he shot back a reply, then he bent to finish the report. After this, he could go visit the others. That would be good. He _needed_ to get away from…from everything.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Triggers: Heavily implied physical abuse, threat of death, abusive language, unwanted sexual advances, Bad Brother AU (no physical abuse between bros), self-harm, tense/uncomfortable domestic situations.
> 
>  
> 
> *******
> 
> ...there will be fluff next chapter. I need it. This place is miserable.
> 
> (Askellie has continued "Up in Smoke", which you can find [here](https://askellie.tumblr.com/post/167474875441/up-in-smoke-part-of). It's a beautifully written piece, and if you're comfortable with darker material, I highly recommend it. It's not canon, but we can probably safely call it a parallel timeline. Please be sure to read the content warning if you follow that link. 18+ only please.)


	3. The word you're looking for is 'neuroplasticity'

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Undyne has trouble respecting boundaries, and there is a literal noodle incident.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mild warning for intrusive thoughts.

“OARGH!”

“Quit being a baby and hold still.” Glaring, Edge extended his middle finger, only to flinch back when Undyne snapped her teeth at him. She smirked and, crossing her arms, asked, “Do you want me to fix your jaw or not?” He exhaled hard, wishing he could tell her exactly what he wanted her to fix and where she could shove it. Instead he merely nodded stiffly, hoping the glare would suffice. “I didn’t hear a please, gutter-rat. Who taught you manners, anyway?”

Well, he didn’t need words to respond to that. He jabbed a gloved finger into her chest, but that only earned him riotous laughter. She grabbed hold of his jaw and his skull, bending to look him in the eyelights. Smirking, she said, “Yeah. I guess that does explain why you’re such a little shit, huh?” And without further ado, she popped his dislocated jaw back into place. His sockets went wide, and though the pain was brief, it was intense enough to make his bones feel like they’d been dipped in ice water. “Breathe, gutter-rat,” she encouraged, slapping him on the back—and knocking the wind out of him, of course. He glared at her again, rubbing his mandibular condyle. She just winked. “Don’t worry—a little pain’s good for you. Builds character.”

“I think I’ve got enough ‘character’, thank you.”

“Pussy.”

He rolled his eyelights, then stood and rolled his head and shoulders, loosening his limbs in preparation. “So are we going again or what?”

She looked him up and down, her grin stretching wide, but to his surprise, she declined. “Nah. Let’s go inside. That’s enough training for today.” Shrugging, he allowed her to sling a heavy arm over his shoulders and draw him toward the house. As always, she started by praising him, telling him what he’d done well, skills he’d improved on, etcetera. Then she addressed the areas he needed to work on. None of it was a surprise to him; he had already been mentally critiquing himself, acknowledging the areas he was weak and how he might improve on them. Arrogance was all fine and good for pre-fight posturing—if his opponent didn’t believe in themselves, then he’d already won the fight, if there was a fight at all—but the moment he stopped trying to identify his own weaknesses and compensate for them, he may as well lay down and die. Ego did not survive long in Underfell unless there was some substance to back it up.

As they stepped inside, though, she surprised him again by asking, “So? What about me?” He stared at her, trying to read her expression. Undyne, smirking, wrapped her arm more securely around his neck and tucked him into her side, knuckling the top of his head. He put a stop to that with a hard jab to her ribcage. Laughing, she pushed him away, then held up her new hand. She flexed it, curling the fingers. “I’m sporting some new equipment, gutter-rat. I’d like to know how it’s performing. Besides.” She crossed her arms, growing more serious. “You’re not my student anymore—you’re my Lieutenant and experienced enough now that these training sessions aren’t one-sided.”

Edge was too stunned to speak for a few seconds, touched but also…uneasy. He should have been preening at the unprecedented praise, but something in her tone or posture just felt _off_. He couldn’t identify it specifically, couldn’t name why he felt this way, so he tried to push it aside and say, dismissively, “Well, you can start by learning to _dodge_ , you crazy fish-bitch. If you try to counter everything, something is bound to get through sooner or later.”

He expected her to brush him off, say something about dodging being for cowards and criminals—and give him a very significant look—but instead, she nodded thoughtfully and, over her shoulder, said, “Continue.” Then she walked over to the kitchen counter and pulled down a tea-tin. When he didn’t say anything immediately, she paused, kettle in hand, and looked at him. “Well? I don’t have all day, gutter-rat.”

Clearing his throat—and trying to regain his balance—he fixed his gaze on the wall ahead and gripped his wrist in one hand behind his back, rocking on his toes as he started rattling off things he’d noticed while they were sparring. It was shockingly uncomfortable, criticizing his mentor. Finally, though, he’d run out of things to say, and he looked over at her, again trying to read her. She was leaning against the kitchen counter, hands planted on the edges and staring at the tiled floor, nodding to herself. When it was obvious he didn’t have anything else to add, she looked up and grinned. “Alright. Next time, we’ll both have things to work on then.”

He swallowed and turned away, trying to find the source of his unease. She wasn’t threatening him. She wasn’t doing anything that was all that out of character, even. So why did it feel like his soul was trying to tie itself in knots? His gaze landed on the piano, and the unease morphed into dread.

_(Sitting in the hallway, arms looped loosely over his knees. Watching her. Trying to figure out her game. Confusion, as she took a long drink of something alcoholic and sat at the piano. Her fingers dancing nimbly over the keys. His soul pulsing as music—soft and sweet and utterly foreign—filled the small space. “Piano’s not gonna bite you. I might, but only if you give me a reason to.” Hesitating. Then, cautiously, stepping into the room proper.)_

Briefly, he closed his sockets, forcing himself to keep his breathing steady and even. A hand—cool but scaly and callused—settled on his shoulder. “Look,” she said softly, “I’m not going to get all sappy on you or anything…but I’m still alive and you’re still alive. That’s the most important thing.”

He forced himself to nod, wishing he could accept the absolution. _(Dust and blood in his mouth—)_ “Right. Did Alphys say…?” He couldn’t bring himself to finish that sentence, afraid of asking after false hope.

Still, Undyne caught the direction of his thoughts. “Didn’t ask. She did say that—“ She pressed her fleshy hand to her forehead and tilted her head back. “…you know what? I have no idea what she said. Something about ‘neuron plastics’ and integrated biocircuits or some such shit.” Undyne’s gaze unfocused a bit, her smile going a little soft around the edges. “Isn’t she the coolest?” Edge raised a brow-bone, and Undyne seemed to realize what she was saying. She shook her head and cleared her throat. “Anyway, she did say it’s going to be a while before I get my ‘fine motor control’ back. Ha! Remembered _that_ part!”

He snorted and shook his head. “I’m shocked. I figured you’d be too busy ogling her—“ She smacked the back of his skull, earning a glare. “ _Ow_.”

She clamped a hand around his cervical vertebrae and propelled him forward. “Anyway, just because I’m missing a hand, doesn’t mean that you can’t practice.” Her grin was positively manic.

He tried to dig his heels in, but he barely slowed their progress. “Captain—“

“Quit whining,” she ordered, sitting him down at the piano. “Here. This is an easy piece.”

He looked between her and the sheet music. “Why do you do this to me?”

Smirking, she again knuckled the top of his head. “Keeps you humble, gutter-rat. Now start playing.”

Grumbling under his breath, he set his phalanges on the keys, and haltingly, he began to play, cursing every time his fingers stuttered. Which was often. Loud enough for Undyne to hear, he snapped, “It sounds like there’s a fucking Whimsun tangled in the wires.”

She turned off the kettle as the water started to boil. “That means you’re improving—not so long ago, it sounded like there was a flock of Whimsalot stuck in there whenever you tried to play.” He growled quietly, then focused on the sheet music again, determined to play through the damn song at least _once_ without screwing up. His frustration mounted as his phalanges fumbled over the keys. He muttered angrily under his breath, not even glancing at Undyne as she sat beside him, mug in hand. “You need to relax,” she said. He paused to glare at her, but that only earned him a smirk. “Trying to play when you’re all stiff like this is never going to work.” He resisted the urge to flip her off and continued butchering the song. “So I guess this means your ‘contingency plan’ still hasn’t managed to fuck you, huh?”

His fingers skittered over the keys, creating a discordant wreck. He sputtered and fumed, trying to find his voice. Finally, he managed to say, “My sex life—“

“Non-existent sex life, you mean?”

“MY SEX LIFE,” he reiterated, raising his volume to speak over her, “ISN’T ANY OF YOUR BUSINESS.” She just grinned, looking very pleased with herself. “Besides,” he added, fingers again starting to play over the keys, “I don’t think you have room to talk, do you?”

“The fuck does that mean? I get plenty of—“

“Not from the one that matters.”

She lifted her chin. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

He rolled his eyes. “Right, and—“ His phone rang. Blinking, he pulled his phone out and glanced at the screen.

“Who is it?” His skull snapped up guiltily, eyelights shrunk to pinpricks and his cheekbones flushed. “Oh, really?” She smirked…and set her tea to the side.

“Undyne, no—“ He tried to keep the phone out of her reach, but she managed to wrestle it away from him.

“Contingency plan! That you?” she asked, holding Edge off as he tried to reclaim the phone.

“Stars damn it, Undyne, give me back my fucking phone you scaly bitch!”

As he knew she would, she grinned broadly when Paps confirmed that it was he on the other end of the line. “As a matter of fact, he’s busy right now. Speaking of—“ She turned and looked at Edge. “Did I say you could stop?” Edge glared at her, but ultimately decided that he was fighting a losing battle. Sighing deeply, he straightened the sheet music and started pounding on the keys. That earned him a smack to the back of his head. “Hey!” Undyne snapped at him, “Respect your instrument, or I’m gonna show you the same treatment, got it?”

She narrowed her eyes and tilted her head, smirk growing as she listened to whatever Paps was saying on the other line. “Your contingency plan is hilarious,” she observed, covering the microphone so Paps couldn’t hear her. “Feisty. Like one of those little dogs that doesn’t know it’s a little dog? You know the type.”

Edge snickered, wrists loose and shoulders relaxed. He was still missing or fumbling notes, but his playing wasn’t as stiff or sharp anymore. “Is he threatening you?”

“Yeah. Like I said: hilarious.” She uncovered the microphone and said, obviously speaking overtop the other monster, “So, I see that stick is still firmly lodged in my Lieutenant’s ectoplasmic ass. Thought you were going to help him out with that, CP? What happened? He still giving you trouble—“

Edge lunged for the phone, but—cackling—Undyne just danced out of his reach. “Did you even _try_ the sriracha trick? Oh, you _have_. Interesting. Okay. Respectable progress. Alright. Try this—hey!”

After sweeping her legs out from under her, Edge dove after her, trying to wrestle the phone away. They ended up on the floor in a tangle of limbs, and while Edge snarled and yelled, Undyne just laughed. Finally, he managed to pin her down and reclaim his phone, though he was out of breath when he said, “The fuck do you want, Ashtray? I’m busy.”

“what are you two even doing?” Paps asked.

“Before you called? Piano lessons.”

“alright, fine—don’t tell me, geeze.” Edge rolled his eyelights, deciding that he really didn’t care to try to convince the other monster he was telling the truth. “are you coming over tonight? blue and rus are trying to get everyone together for game night.”

“I’m surprised Rus didn’t tell you. He already asked, but I’ve got an early shift tomorrow—“

Underneath him, Undyne shouted, “No he doesn’t!”

He glared down at her, riding out her renewed struggles. “ _Yes_ ,” he said, “I do.”

“Stars on fire, gutter-rat; I’m your fucking boss, just ask for some _time off_ , you moron!”

He pulled away from the phone to hiss, “I can’t take time off!”

Her eyes narrowed and her mouth compressed. _Oh fu—_ She rolled them both and slammed his hand against the floor, sending the phone skittering away. He caught her arm and tried to grab her around the waist, tried to haul her back, but she ripped out of his grip and scrambled after the phone. He grabbed her leg, her foot, but she dislodged him with a kick to his ribcage, earning a breathless curse. Then—“HA!” Undyne pressed the phone to her earfin. “He’ll be there. I’ll even wrap him up like a fucking Gyftmas present, if you like.”

Even Edge could hear Paps laughing at that. “ _You will do no such thing!_ ”

“But!” she said, scrambling to her feet and dodging Edge’s renewed attempts to retrieve his phone. “ _But_ you need to promise me something first.”

“Stars damn-it, Undyne! Give me back my—“ He lunged for her, but she planted a hand on his sternum and held him off. Edge growled; she would have no idea how seriously Paps would take whatever promise she tried to extract from him.

“You gotta kiss him,” Undyne said, her grin sharp and feral. Edge’s cheekbones went bright with magic, which only made Undyne’s grin grow broader. “And none of that on the cheek crap. A real kiss. Tongue and—“

Edge grabbed her wrist and forearm, then dragged her forward and off her feet, rolling her along his back and shoulder. She yelped in surprise, then groaned when she landed in a heap. Edge knelt down to snatch the phone out of her hands, but his victory was somewhat spoiled when she merely started laughing. “This isn’t any of your damn business! _Stay out of it!_ ” he snarled, earning more laughter, then he brought the phone up to his earhole. On the other end of the line, Paps was bent double and just as out of breath as either Undyne or Edge. “What the fuck are you laughing at?” Edge snapped, free hand curled into a fist.

“you,” he said, and Edge could hear the smile in his voice. Not so long ago, Edge would have taken that as an insult, but now, it only made his soul grow warm. He relaxed his hand and sat back on his heels, keeping a wary eye on Undyne as she sat up, still chuckling. “tell felldyne i can’t make that promise. ‘cause i’ve gotta promise you that i’ll only kiss you if you want me to.” Half his field of vision cleared, losing the Tale-verse ‘shadow’ as Paps winked. Edge’s mandible warmed, magic gathering along the interior. He tried to swallow it back, but more gathered almost immediately.

“I—“ He caught Undyne’s hand and pushed her away. “I’ll be there,” he said, soul buzzing, “I’ll work it out with the Captain.” Undyne pumped a fist in the air and loosed a victory cry. Edge glared at her and covered his other earhole.

“good. oh, and tell felldyne that, as much as i’d enjoy unwrapping you—“ Edge squawked his outrage at that, cheekbones still hot with magic. “—she doesn’t need to go to the extra trouble.”

“ _You_ —“

“see you later, edgelord~!” Then he hung up, and Edge was left staring at his phone, soul hammering erratically.

As his soul calmed, though, he wondered if maybe he shouldn’t have made such a snap judgment. He had responsibilities, after all. The people of Snowdin needed him. What might happen, while he was gone? _(A memory rose up, but he pushed it back. No. Don’t think about it.)_ Just as he was about to call Paps back and tell him that, no, actually, he couldn’t go, Undyne knelt beside him and drew him up.

“Don’t you dare.”

“Dare what, fish-bitch?” he demanded.

“I know that look. You know, I’ve never met another gutter-rat as even half as uptight as you.”

“How many gutter-rats do you meet?” Edge challenged, brow-bone raised.

She rolled her eyes. “Not the point. The point is—“ She planted a hand on either side of his skull and drew him in, looking him in the sockets. “Life is hard, Papyrus. And it’s short. Every once in a while, do me a favor and actually _live_ , huh? Consider it an order, if that makes it easier.”

They stayed that way for a few seconds, until Edge said, “…Thought you weren’t going to get sappy on me? I hate to say it, Captain, but that was positively dripping with sap.”

Her smile was vicious. “Just for that, I’m extending practice. Your fingers are gonna bleed before we’re done, gutter-rat. Hope you’re ready.” With that, she spun him back toward the piano and gave him a push. “Start playing.”

He eyed the piano with more than a little trepidation, then lifted his chin and marched forward. He was not going to let a _musical instrument_ , of all things, best him. He was the Great and Terrible Papyrus for fucks’ sake! He could do this!

(Stars, but he really shouldn’t. It sounded like the piano was begging someone to put it out of its misery.)

 

By the time Edge’s shift was done, Red was already gone. Not wanting to be stuck in his armor for the rest of the night, Edge grabbed a change of clothes and stashed them in his inventory. Then he set out across Snowdin forest—taking the time to check in with a few of the monsters on sentry duty as he went. Everything seemed to be in order, so he felt a little better about leaving, at least. After securing the cave’s entrance, he booted up the machine and unbuckled his armor, changing into his casual clothes. He paused for a moment, took a deep breath, and exhaled slowly, trying to settle his mind.

It hadn’t even been a bad day, per se. After his training session and piano lesson with Undyne that morning, he’d gone on to check his traps and recalibrate his puzzles. Lesser Dog had needed to be reminded that Edge was the alpha in this part of the Underground, but that hadn’t taken more than a few minutes. Nevertheless, he hadn’t been able to shake the unease Undyne’s demeanor had managed to ignite that morning, and it was putting him on…well, it was making him antsy.

His disquiet was unfounded, though, and he tried to shake it off. Red and Blue—and possibly Rus—would instantly pick up on it if he gave any sign that he wasn’t at his best. Straightening his clothes _~~no there wasn’t any dust on his hands no dust on his clothes he hadn’t killed anyone today why was he even thinking about this~~_ , he lifted his chin and stepped through the portal.

Once outside, he slogged through the snow, glancing to either side to appreciate walking through a Snowdin without walls. Warm light spilled out of unbarred windows, painting the snow a soft gold. He paused on the Swap brothers’ doorstep momentarily, clenching his hand when an unwanted thought _~~he shouldn’t be here he didn’t belong here stars these monsters didn’t deserve all the fell-verse bullshit he carried around with him~~_ rose up. He was _invited_ , damn-it! Even if he didn’t _belong_ here, he was wanted here _~~for now~~. _

Swallowing, he kicked the snow off his boots and flung the door open, determined to ignore the invasive thoughts. As soon as the door opened, Paps and Sans looked up from the couch where they appeared to be playing solitaire…together. He cocked his head, trying to puzzle out how _that_ even worked, when the two lazybones grinned at him. “heya, edgelord,” Paps said, “glad you could make it. felldyne didn’t give you too much trouble, did she?”

He pulled the door shut, blocking out the cold. “I think my fingers will recover,” he replied, ignoring the blank looks he got in response to that. “Where’s the runt? I thought he was here already.”

Sans settled back on the couch, looking very pleased with himself. “upstairs getting cleaned up.”

Edge cocked his head slightly, ready to ask about that, but Paps just shook his head and held up a hand. “trust me, don’t ask. i think rus was attempting to make noodles from scratch.” He shivered a little. “there were eggs and flour everywhere. red got the worst of it, but no one came out of that kitchen unscathed.” He allowed the hollow-eyed, shell-shocked expression to linger for a moment. Then he flipped a card and declared, “ha! i win.”

Edge couldn’t even remotely see how either of them could have won, but Sans did seem genuinely put out. Rolling his eyelights, Edge decided that they were either messing with him, or they were being idiots. Either way, he didn’t care to try to parse whatever the fuck they were doing. He went to walk past, intent on joining the other younger brothers in the kitchen, but Paps caught his hand. He started peeling off the glove, and Edge asked, “What are you doing, Ashtray?”

“you said there was something wrong with your fingers.”

“No, I said that they would recover.”

“still means there’s something wrong with them.” Edge curled his phalanges, preventing Paps from pulling the glove off. Paps looked up at him, his expression soft. “can i see?” He ran a thumb over Edge’s metacarpals, the gesture soothing. Edge looked away from him, his gaze briefly settling on Sans—who just stared back at him with wide sockets. Then he took a long swig of ketchup and turned away from both of them. That was not especially reassuring, and did nothing to settle Edge’s jittery soul.

Paps’ thumb never stopped its soothing motion, though, and there was nothing unwelcome or unwanted in Paps’ gaze. “If you must,” Edge finally growled. He turned his face away but watched from the corner of his socket as he unbent his fingers, allowing Paps to pull the glove off. Once the leather was peeled away, Paps turned his hand over and studied his fingers. “See? They’re fine,” Edge said, ready to take his hand back. Undyne had not kept to her threat; by the end of practice, Edge’s fingers—particularly the tips of his distal phalanges—had ached but there was no marrow. There were no marks, no sign of his discomfort or the lingering soreness.

He expected Paps to release him, then. Instead, he started rolling one distal phalange between his own fingers, working the joint gently. Edge inhaled sharply, surprised at how _good_ that felt. “What are you doing?” he asked, closing his hand into a fist instinctively. His soul jerked when Paps ran a few fingers over the backs of his metacarpals again.

“you want me to stop?”

He wanted to say ‘yes’. He wanted to say ‘no’. Instead, he just stared at the other Papyrus, completely at a loss. Upstairs, the bathroom door opened and Red emerged in a set of borrowed clothes. Edge used the distraction to pull his hand away and shove it back into the glove. A little more loudly than intended, he snapped, “Runt!” He very scrupulously avoided looking at Paps, unwilling to try to read his expression. “Anything to report?”

Red, on hearing him, immediately ran over to the railing to look down on the trio. His shoulders sagged and his eyelights dimmed when he saw them though. Edge raised his head, alert. Something was wrong. “h-hey, boss,” Red said, his stutter more prominent than usual, “ ‘s slim with ya? i texted ‘im twice, an’ he ain’t shown up yet.”

“No,” he said slowly, his own soul starting to grow heavy. “He said he’d be here?” Red nodded, eyelights dim and his fingers hooked through his collar, twisting. “Then let’s see what’s keeping him, hmm?” Red smiled tentatively, hope and relief evident in his expression, though his shoulders were still bowed with the weight of his worry.

Paps and Sans looked between them. “you just got here,” Paps protested. Sans, however, sat up straighter, and his eyelights sharpened around the edges.

“you guys need help?” he asked.

“Don’t worry about it, short-stuff,” Edge said, brushing him off. “The lazybones probably just fell asleep and forgot. I’m certain he’s fine.” The lie tasted foul, but they would not be traumatizing another Tale-verse monster by dragging them into a Fell-verse. Not if Edge had anything to say about it. “Runt! Are you ready?”

“y-yeah, boss.”

As soon as they were out of the room, Edge caught his brother’s elbow and asked, “Any idea what we’re walking into?”

Red shook his head, stuffing his hands into his jacket pockets—there was still some flour in the hood ruff, but otherwise it seemed to have come out relatively unscathed. “dunno, boss. could be nuthin’. could be…not nuthin’.”

Edge nodded, almost grateful for this trip. He had no idea how to respond to Paps’ gentle touches. They hadn’t even been sexual or at all inappropriate, but…there was something very intimate in what he’d done. It was confusing, and it set Edge’s soul spinning. But this? Setting out into an unknown, potentially hostile situation? This he understood. This he could do.

“Let’s go then.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I always worry that chapters that are mainly humor seem pointless or unnecessary...but I think there area few important plot points hidden amongst the humor here.
> 
> Hope you all enjoyed!


	4. Word games

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Edge and Red have a job to do, and Razz is not happy about it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger warning for verbal abuse, self harm, internalized abuse, and intrusive thoughts.

Razz read through the report a few times, his fingers tightening around the edges of the paper as he did so. “That’s _it?_ ” he hissed, crumpling the report in one hand as he glared at Slim. “That’s all he has? What good is he as an informant if he doesn’t have any _information_?!” Slim swallowed tightly, dropping his gaze as he gave a one-shouldered shrug. “ _Look at me when I’m talking to you!_ ” Razz hissed, sounding frighteningly like the queen in that moment. His tone was identical.

He took a step forward when Slim wasn’t able to do more than briefly lift his gaze. Then, when Slim flinched back, Razz snarled wordlessly and turned to pace the upstairs hall. Shuddering in a mix of relief and regret—because Razz wasn’t looking at him anymore—Slim sagged against the wall and curled into it, pulling his hood over his head. Then, before he could try to calm down, Razz started projecting /WRATH/MENACE/HATRED/OUTRAGE/ and Slim flinched back like he’d been physically struck.

He wished he could risk stuffing his earbuds into his acoustic meati. If Razz caught him, though, there’d be hell to pay. Instead, he slipped his fingers into his sleeve and raked his claws over the scars on his ulna. Reminded himself he wasn’t allowed to break it. He wasn’t allowed to break it. Muffet would be very displeased with him if he broke it. He wasn’t. Allowed. To break—

If Razz noticed his distress, he gave no sign. He had his head down, and his fists—bruised and flushed violet with magic—were clenched tightly. He paused momentarily, staring at the wall as if it had personally offended him, then he snarled wordlessly and resumed pacing. Slim pressed himself even tighter against the wall, trying to disappear into his coat. A renewed wave of /HATE/WRATH/OUTRAGE/MENACE/ washed over him, and he yanked his hand out of his sleeve, then bit down _hard_. The taste of marrow and magic hit his conjured tongue.

Razz noticed. “Get your _filthy_ hand out of your mouth, dog!” he snarled.

Slim immediately ripped his hand away, shaking violently. He tried to apologize—(Stars, what was wrong with him? Why was he like this? Why couldn’t he just be _functional_?)—but the words stuck in his mouth and all that came out was a strangled “srn”.

Razz’s mouth curled into a sneer. “Useless,” he spat, taking a step toward Slim. “Why do I put up with you? Can’t you just pull yourself together? What kind of monster _are_ you?”

Again, Slim tried to apologize, but the words caught on his tongue and came out inaudible and garbled. He glanced up once, then immediately looked away. He couldn’t bear to see the disgust and contempt in Razz’s eyes. _(_ **USelEsS** _.)_ He curled into himself and cringed away. Razz looked like he had more to say on the subject, but there was a knock at the door. “Who—?” he looked more affronted than surprised.

Slim was just as puzzled. Until he remembered Red and the text messages. He’d replied, hadn’t he? Yes. Yes, he definitely had. But…how long ago had that been? His internal clock told him, ‘too long’.

Razz turned away, glaring at the door. A whine escaped Slim, but Razz either didn’t hear or didn’t care. He stomped downstairs, snarling loudly when the heavy knocking came again. Wait. Slim pulled away from the wall. That wasn’t Red. Red’s knock was softer and more rhythmic. ‘Shave-and-a-haircut’ was his preferred method. (‘Two-bits’ Slim always knocked back before answering.) This was just a sharp, impatient rapping.

Oh. Oh, no—

His soul twisted, but there was nothing to be done. Razz flung open the door, intent on snapping at whoever waited on the other side. He froze, however, when he saw Edge standing there. His posture shifted subtly—his feet slid into a fighting stance and his chin lifted, shoulders back and arms at his sides. Ready. Slim couldn’t see his face, but he knew that Razz’s features would have closed off completely, concealing even the faintest trace of anger. “Lieutenant, ” he said. His tone was _almost_ smug.

“Good evening.” Edge waited _just_ long enough to be on the verge of disrespectful before he added, “Captain.” His tone was not _quite_ mocking, but it was close. Very, very close.

Razz’s fist clenched. “May I help you with something?” he asked stiffly, “Are you lost, perhaps?”

Edge leaned against the doorjamb and eyed as claws, saying, “Actually, we have business with your brother. Is he in?” While Razz internally raged at the other skeleton’s dismissive posture, Slim jolted when Edge’s eyelights flicked up, meeting his briefly, before he looked back down at Razz. The use of the plural pronoun had Slim stepping forward, searching for Red at Edge’s back. As if he sensed Slim’s intent, Edge shifted a little, revealing a flash of red and gold. Then, unnoticed by Razz, Red took a shortcut, reappearing behind Slim.

Slim looked between him and the two skeletons exchanging barbed pleasantries. While Razz asked, “What could you possibly want from the dog?”, Red stepped up beside Slim and took hold of his jacket sleeve.

“heya, bro. how ya doin’, huh?” he asked under his breath. Razz still hadn’t noticed, and Edge was keeping his gaze fixed on the smaller skeleton before him.

“The Swap brothers are hosting Game Night.”

“i got worried,” Red continued, though Slim wasn’t looking at him anymore, “when ya didn’ show, ya know? had ta make sure nuthin’ happened to ya.” Slim nodded absently.

“ _Game Night?_ ” Razz asked, appalled, “Why would you want the dog?”

Edge gave a one-shouldered shrug. “It’s Tale versus Fell. Two on four is hardly fair.”

Red stepped up to the bannister and said, “yeah. ‘sides, he’s our ringer fer charades.” Slim ducked his head and covered his mouth with his hand, trying not to laugh. It was a long-standing joke between them—that no one could beat them in a game of charades. He sobered when he caught a glimpse of Razz’s expression.

Sockets narrowed and mouth twisted into a snarl, he spun back to Edge and snapped, “You _must_ be joking.”

Edge hadn’t shifted his posture in the slightest—still casual and unconcerned, he said, “About charades? Yes.” He glanced up at Red, a note of disapproval in his gaze. But, then, he wasn’t in on the joke—he likely thought Red was being cruel. “Otherwise…no.”

Even from the second floor, Slim could see Razz’s bones tense and twist. His fingers tightened around the doorjamb and he leaned forward, breath steaming in the cold air. “I expect this kind of nonsense from the others, but I thought that _you_ at least, were above this.”

Another lopsided shrug from Edge. “I was recently reminded that life is short.” Then he glanced up at the second level and said, “Runt. Slim. Time to go—we’re already late.”

“you got it, boss.” Then, before Slim—or Razz—could protest, Red had teleported them both behind his brother.

“Have a pleasant evening, Captain,” Edge said, just short of mocking, “It was so nice speaking to you.” He sketched a lazy salute, though Red was not as restrained—he had two fingers hooked through his socket and his tongue extended. Seeing that, Edge casually cuffed the back of his head. “Get your tongue back in your mouth, runt.”

“sorry, boss.” They turned away, ushering Slim ahead of them, but Razz leaned out of the house, an angry purple flush across his cheekbones. His sockets were narrowed, and his hands were clenched.

_“I did not consent to this!”_

Red pulled away from Slim and slipped past Edge, getting in Razz’s face to snarl, “we ain’t askin’ fer yer permission, cap’n asshat.”

Razz snarled, but Edge yanked his brother back and inserted himself between them. “Do you need him for something?” he asked coolly.

“I don’t need that useless lump for _anything_!”

“Then you won’t miss him, will you?”

Razz’s eyelights flared as he realized he’d been outmaneuvered. “No,” he finally said, voice stiff, “You can have him for all I care.”

Slim flinched, but Red’s hand caught his and squeezed. “i gotcha, bro,” he murmured, “don’ worry. i gotcha.” Slim tightened his grip, clinging to the other skeleton, but his soul churned as Razz’s words hit home, aching and heartsick.

“How gracious,” Edge said. “Good night, then.” He turned away and ushered the smaller skeletons ahead of him. Slim couldn’t help but glance back, not sure what he wanted to find in his brother’s gaze, but the rage burning in Razz’s eyelights did not surprise him. Shivering, he swallowed and tugged his hood over his head, hunching into it. Red pulled him along, never allowing his grip to loosen.

Together, they clomped down the stairs and into the machine room—Edge hung back, head up and alert, guarding their backs. “Runt,” he snapped as Red separated from Slim to boot up the machine, “what have I said about antagonizing Razz?”

“uh? not ta do it?” Edge sighed heavily, but Red just continued, “he was askin’ fer more’n a little backtalk, boss. he was askin’ fer a good kick in the—“

Slim growled, startling the brothers. When Edge stepped toward him, though, the growl cut off and he tried to pull deeper into his hood. Edge didn’t seem to care about his discomfort, gruffly taking hold of his chin to study his face. Slim’s sockets went wide, but he quickly dropped his gaze and went very, very still. “Are you hurt?” Edge asked, taking Slim’s hand. He pushed one jacket sleeve up, exposing the scarred ulna, but Slim yanked out of his grip and pulled the scarred arm against his chest. Surprisingly, Edge didn’t chastise him, only regarded him with upraised brow-bones.

Smoothly, Red stepped between them. “heh. sorry ‘bout boss, bro. he’s pushy, but he means well.”

“ ‘Pushy’ my ass—“

Red turned to glare at him, and Edge sighed, arms crossed and sockets raised skyward. Slowly, Slim uncurled, looking between them. Waiting for things to devolve into shouting or violence. But nothing happened. They both turned away from each other and focused on Slim. “i—“ He swallowed past the tightness in his throat. “ ‘m…fine,” he finally said, rubbing at his humerus and keeping his gaze fixed on the ground.

“good,” Red said cheerfully, checking the machine as it finished warming up. “let’s get goin’ then. the others are waitin’ fer us. the blueberry an’ the creampuff were workin’ on sumthin’ before we left.” Slim paused, head cocked questioningly. Red rubbed the back of his neck. “i, uh, i think blue was tryna take the lead…but you know how rus can be. i hope ya ate earlier.”

Slim studied him for a few seconds before turning his back and starting back up the stairs. Snorting, Red caught his arm and swung him into the machine’s portal. Before he disappeared through the portal’s membrane, he thought he heard Edge laughing, but that couldn’t be right. He stumbled out into the Swap brothers’ basement and stepped out of the way so that Edge and Red wouldn’t land on top of him. As they emerged, Red started talking about the games they’d been debating.

Despite being in a more peaceful universe, Edge took point, studying the streets of Snowdin before he allowed them to emerge. He never fully relaxed until they stepped inside the brothers’ house, and even then, he seemed reluctant to leave them unguarded. At least, until Sans perked up and said, “heya, kiddo! glad to see the edgelord and the asshole found you.” Red glared and straightened his jacket stiffly.

“look who’s talkin’, ya—“

“BROTHER!” Rus said, peering into the living room from the kitchen. “DON’T BE RUDE!” He brightened and surged forward, picking Red up and hugging him tightly. Though Red protested that they had _just_ seen each other, his bright blush and dopey-looking grin revealed he wasn’t all that upset. Then Rus turned his gaze on Slim and pulled him into a hug too, radiating warmth and welcome without even projecting.

Slim’s soul buzzed at the contact, not entirely sure how to react. Gradually, though, Slim relaxed into the hug and even returned it. Red, still caught in Rus’s grip, reached out and knuckled the top of Slim’s head. Then, as soon as Rus released him, Sans was at his elbow, grinning up at him. “wanna sit down with us? we were playin’ two-man solitaire.”

Rus and Edge both glared at him. “BROTHER. THAT’S NOT POSSIBLE.”

“why not, bro?”

“Because ‘solitaire’ is played _alone_ ,” Edge said, starting a little when Paps came up beside him. He wrapped his arms around the shorter skeleton and set his chin on Edge’s shoulder. Edge glanced at him a few times, obviously trying to determine what, if anything, he should do about this new development. Slim stepped away from them—sure, they’d been friendly with each other at Movie Night…but privately, he thought Paps was being far too trusting. This time, at least, Edge seemed to decide that ignoring him was the most appropriate course of action. “As in ‘solitary’.”

“oh…then what have we been playing?” Sans asked, looking at Paps.

“…duetaire? …or maybe it should be plural, since there’s two of us?”

“so with three people—“ He indicated Slim. “—we can play tretaires.”

Slim, seeing where this was going, grinned and held up four fingers. “quartaires.”

Red laughed raucously. “better break out the condiments then. an’ we’ll need glasses an’ coins if we’re playin’ quarters.”

The elder brothers all chuckled, while Rus and Edge just looked disgusted. “Stars above,” Edge muttered, “have you really been waiting this whole time to make that weak pun?”

“yep,” Paps said, squeezing him lightly, “you didn’t give us an opening earlier, so we had to make our own.”

“…Why do I put up with you idiots?” Edge asked, and though he didn’t seem to appreciate the harsh language, Rus didn’t exactly chastise him.

“ ‘cause we’re your idiots,” Paps relied, and kissed his cheekbone.

Slim’s sockets went wide at his audacity…then widened impossibly further when Edge blushed a brilliant red and ducked his head. He muttered darkly under his breath, but he didn’t push the other away. If anything, his shoulders relaxed a little, and he leaned into Paps’ hold. Paps’ grin softened into something easier and more genuine.

Maybe he’d been wrong to doubt Paps. That was almost absurdly cute. Slim, honestly, didn’t even know how to react to that. He did, however, notice Red’s disapproving frown. Well. That wouldn’t do.

He looked up and caught Rus’s eyelight. A subtle gesture toward Red, and Rus nodded, hefting him up and carrying him off, chatting loudly. Sans, of course, froze in place, his eyelights going dim. Slim just nudged him and cocked his head. “cards?” he asked, fingers nervously playing over his ulna.

Sans looked between him and Rus, but eventually, his expression settled into a grin and he said, “yeah, c’mon. you know how to play kings in the corner?” Edge facepalmed, while Paps chuckled. Sans looked up at him, playing innocent. “something wrong, edgelord?”

“That game,” Edge snapped, “is essentially how you would play solitaire with multiple people.”

Sans’ sockets went comically wide. “is it? huh. never thought about it. guess you’re right, edgelord. you wanna play?”

Slim expected him to growl or snap, or say that the question was ridiculous and Sans was stupid for even asking. Instead, he eyed the kitchen door and said, “I should help—“

“relax,” Paps said, guiding him over to the couch. “you’re a guest.”

“So is Rus, but he’s—“

“trust me, edgelord. he’s not ‘helping’.”

That earned a sharp glare from Sans, while the magic drained from Slim’s features. “All the more reason to—“

Paps pushed him onto the couch and threatened, “i’ll sit on top of you, if that’s what it takes to keep you here.” Edge crossed his arms and cocked a brow-bone, unimpressed. Sighing, Paps sat beside him and said, “look, they’ve got it covered. besides, at this point, dinner’s a lost cause.”

Sans leaned around Edge to glare at Paps. “if you keep talking trash about my brother—“

“You’re going to show him a bad time?” Edge asked dismissively. He looked between the kitchen and Paps, then sighed and relaxed into the sofa, allowing his body to mold to Paps’. “We’re helping with dishes,” he told him firmly. Then he returned his attention to Sans. “Look, short-stuff, I already told you, if you offered your brother some honest criticism instead of trying to coddle him all the time, then he could improve. You think you’re helping, but you’re just depriving him of the chance to reach his full potential.”

“edgelord,” Sans said slowly, “he’s my brother. mind your own business.”

“Technically,” Edge said, “he’s _me_. So it is my business. Also, you’re not the only one that has to eat his cooking.”

Slim just shuffled the cards as they bickered, watching silently. It was…strange. He kept waiting for one of them to lose their temper. It was an honest argument, after all—they both firmly disagreed with the other, and neither was willing to back down. And yet, neither of them was willing to take it a step further either. Stars, they weren’t even raising their voices. He pulled a sucker out and stuck it in his mouth, biting down on the hard candy. Waiting for the yelling to start wasn’t as bad as the yelling itself, but it still made his soul pulse and twist uncomfortably.

Before he would work himself up into a real panic, though, Blue came bounding out of the kitchen and leapt on top of Paps and Edge, hugging both of them. “Hi, Edge!”

“Heya, pipsqueak,” he replied, knuckling the top of Blue’s skull fondly. “You sure you don’t need help in the kitchen? Your brother’s holding me hostage.”

Paps snickered, while Blue shook his head ruefully. “No. Um. Dinner’s already in the oven. There’s not much left to salvage—to do, I mean.” Blue blushed at his slip, while Paps just laughed. Sans sighed heavily and looked skyward.

Surprisingly, though, Edge eyed Blue critically and said, “So, what’s your excuse?”

“For what?” Blue asked brightly.

“For lying to Rus about his cooking.”

“W-what?”

“Look, pipsqueak, you run in circles trying to keep the damage to a minimum—but you never talk to him directly. I get why short-stuff does it—I do not approve, but I get it—so now I want to know what your excuse is.”

“I—“ Blue looked trapped. He eyed Edge, eyed the kitchen door, and then seemed to silently plead with his brother for help. Finally, he pulled in on himself and said, “I don’t want to hurt his feelings.”

Edge raised a brow-bone. “You think it’s not going to hurt him even more when he realizes that you’ve all been lying to him this whole time?”

“I—“ Blue looked, again, to the others for help. But Sans was carefully not looking at anyone, and Paps seemed to be looking inward. “I know,” he said slowly, shrinking in on himself.

Seeing the smaller skeleton collapse like that, Edge sighed and drew him close, tucking him between Paps and himself. “Ease up, pipsqueak. It’s fine. You’re hardly the only one that does it.”

“well, edgelord, why don’t _you_ tell him?” Sans challenged.

“I thought it wasn’t any of my business,” Edge said archly.

“he does have a point,” Paps said, glancing at Edge. “if you feel that strongly about it, then why don’t you do it?”

Edge sighed heavily. “Because I get tired of playing the bad guy all the time. Let someone else do it for a change.” Under his breath, he added, “Stars above, is that so much to ask?”

No one had a response to that. Blue squirmed on the taller skeletons’ laps, turning around so he was facing outward. Seeing Slim, he brightened instantly, though Slim froze under the other’s gaze. “Hi! I’m so glad you could make it tonight!” Blue beamed at him, but Slim shrank in on himself, jaws clenched around the sucker. Shakily, he forced himself to raise a hand in greeting. “Maybe you can help us pick a game! We’ve got a whole trunk full of board games to choose from—some of them are missing pieces, but that’s okay, we can always use substitutes—or we can play a card game, if you’d prefer! We’ve got multiple decks, so we can play pretty much anything, especially if we pick partners—“

As he spoke, Slim pulled further and further in on himself, his soul starting to pulse anxiously. His fingers tightened around his ulna, claws scraping over the raised scars. Thankfully, Sans seemed to catch on to his distress, because he grinned and said, smoothly, “thought we’d decided on ‘go fish’.”

This immediately grabbed Blue’s attention. He turned away from Slim to regard Sans, sighing heavily. “We are not choosing a game based on the number of puns you can make out of it, Sansy.”

“aw, bro, c’mon,” Paps said, grinning at Sans. “that’s not the _sole_ reason.”

“yeah, kiddo, that’d be a real _crappy_ way to pick a game.”

Unable to help himself, Slim snorted and ducked his head, hiding his smile in the ruff of his hood. Sans and Paps looked at him expectantly, and several puns came to mind: ‘too easy; like shooting fish in a barrel’ or ‘don’t worry, they’ll start to flounder when they run out of fish names’. But he just shook his head, smiling secretly. If Red were here, he might have shared his favorite…but he just couldn’t bring himself to speak. ~~What if they thought his jokes were stupid? What if they thought he was stupid? They wouldn’t invite him over anymore. They’d realize how worthless he was and they wouldn’t want him around.~~ Better to keep his silence. It was safer.

Edge and Blue just looked pained. Sighing heavily, Blue said, “We’ll choose something after dinner. Not Go Fish!”

“…what about spoons?” Sans suggested.

“fork me, that sounds like fun!” Paps supplied.

While Edge groaned and rubbed at the spot between his brow-bones, Blue tried to cover up Paps’ mouth. “No!” he said, “No more puns! No fish puns, no utensil puns! No! More!” But they were both laughing, and soon enough, Paps had both his hands on Blue’s ribcage and he was tickling him, making Blue shriek with laughter. “Edge! Help!”

Edge’s grin was shark-like (heh) as he gripped Paps by the waist and pulled him flush against Edge’s chest. Rather than try to tickle him, as Slim might have expected, he started projecting /calm/peace/security/control/ and Paps immediately went limp, leaning back against him. “fuck, edgelord, tha’s not fair,” he slurred, head tilted back as he started purring.

Edge chuckled and scratched his coronal suture. “It only works if you’re receptive to it, Ashtray. Don’t blame me.”

Blue settled on top of Paps and giggled as he started projecting too. “He’s right, Papy. And don’t curse. It’s rude.” Paps nodded absently, allowing himself to relax between both of them.

Sockets wide, Slim just stared at them, shocked by the _trust_ , the intimacy on display. He swallowed tightly and huddled into his coat, clutching the front closed. Watching Blue and Paps play around like that…. His soul felt raw. He was immensely grateful when Rus appeared in the kitchen doorway and announced that dinner was ready. Even if it meant trying to choke down Rus’ cooking.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ...I really love writing Edge and Razz together.


	5. Throwing stones

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Razz considers a few things and ultimately makes a decision he may end up regretting.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning for memories of domestic violence and unhealthy mindsets.
> 
> ...Also. If you haven't read it...you may want to go read Ch. 5 of "Bone Shards". It might color the perception of a few elements here.

For a long moment, Razz just stared at the others’ retreating backs, his soul in turmoil. Carefully, he shut the door. He paused again, his hands clenched and his knucklebones aching. He’d overdone it with the punching bag again. And he wanted nothing more than to go back upstairs and start beating on it again. He swallowed tightly. His soul was heavy, his bones almost vibrating with the need to _do something_.

Flexing his fingers, he marched up the stairs and stormed into the bathroom, digging out the first aid kit. It clattered onto the counter. He pulled out bandages and the healing ointment the queen had given him. Thinking of the queen, he looked into the mirror, checking his socket again. It looked better, though it was still partially closed. And spent magic had crusted on his cheekbones. His soul went briefly cold. Had gutter-trash noticed? He hoped not. Even if he was a Papyrus, underestimating him could be a painful mistake. And not one that Razz intended to make.

He wet a washcloth and wiped the magic from around his sockets and cheekbones. The hairline fracture on his arm stung when he moved it, but the matrix was holding firm. He wiped the washcloth down his arm as well, cleaning away the spent magic. He did the same for his bruised knuckle joints. Another glance in the mirror, and he nodded once. Better. He looked and felt a little more like himself now. Even if he could only bear a brief look.

Swallowing tightly, he applied some of the ointment to his injuries, wincing as it came into contact with the matrix surrounding his wounds. It seared his magic, causing the bones to burn. He breathed through the pain, leaning against the counter. Anger bubbled up, and he bared his fangs in a snarl. He thought of the queen. Thought of her claws wrapped around his arm. Of her pulling on the bone until it broke under the pressure. Of her pacing as he reported on their progress, or lack of progress, regarding the rebels. Of the sudden backhand that struck him across the socket and cheekbone.

He closed his sockets, breathing deep and slow. He swallowed hard and forced his thoughts down a different path. ~~He could not think about the queen that way. She had saved them, hadn’t she? They owed her everything, didn’t they? If she hurt him, then it was _his_ fault. It was because _he_ wasn’t good enough. It was his fault. _His_ fault. It was~~ —

Gutter-trash. Razz slowly looked up, his breathing evening out as the pain slowly faded. What was _gutter-trash_ doing, going over to the Swap brothers’ house for ‘Game Night’ of all things? They couldn’t possibly have invited him. Why would they want him there? Why would _he_ want to _be_ there? He understood why the dog and the whelp would go, but he’d always assumed that gutter-trash was above that. And…if gutter-trash was welcome…then why wasn’t—?

He exhaled hard, curling his fingers into fists. Whatever. He didn’t care about gutter-trash or the whelp or the _dog_. And he certainly didn’t care about their weaker alternates. If they wanted to waste their time, then that was their business. He couldn’t possibly care any less about them and their stupid Game Night. It was ridiculous. It was _childish_.

Razz was better than that. Better than _them_.

In fact, Razz was superior in every way. Blue was nothing but an inferior copy of his own magnificent self—a _shadow_ of the monster he could be. Paps was obnoxious and, worse than that, condescending. At least the _dog_ knew his place. Red was even worse, if possible: impudent and crude and infuriating. Rus was just a joke without a punchline, and he didn’t even have the self-awareness to realize it. As for his brother—who _dared_ to steal Razz’s name, as if he had more right to it than Razz himself—well. He was infuriating and completely abhorrent, but…something about him always put Razz on edge. The comedian needed to be watched. Closely and carefully.

Gutter-trash was the only one that had seemed even remotely tolerable. For a Papyrus, he was almost competent, and he at least managed to reign in the whelp for the most part. Unfortunately, he still stank of the gutter he’d crawled up out of, and no matter how hard he tried to hide his Hotland accent, Razz could still detect it. If he were willing to bend the knee and accept his proper place, then they might have been able to work together. As it was, while Razz wasn’t entirely willing to burn that bridge, he wasn’t willing to cross it either.

So Razz certainly didn’t need them. Or their Game Night. He cut a strip off the roll of bandages and replaced the bandage on his arm, using a little tape to secure the strip. He did the same for his injured knuckles, flexing his fingers to test the bandaging. After putting the kit away, he made the mistake of looking up and accidentally catching his reflection’s gaze for a moment. His fingers curled, and he turned away with a snarl.

Downstairs, he started to pace across the living room floor, alternately trying to figure out what ‘Game Night’ even was and reminding himself that he didn’t actually care. Except…he did care, didn’t he? He paused by the dining room table, his single eyelight shrinking to a fine pinpoint. The whelp had openly mocked him, and gutter-trash’s faux politeness wasn’t fooling anyone. Even more infuriating, the _dog_ had _defied_ him.

His hand curled into a fist and his gaze landed on the pet rock, set in the middle of the dining room table as if it were a centerpiece. He stared at it. His lazy brother, who somehow couldn’t summon the energy to actually do his job, had actually taken the time to construct a crude cage for it. He’d even hung a small sign reading “BEWARE: ALBITE” on the cage and had strewn some sprinkles over the cage floor to serve as rock food.

Breathing slow and steady despite the heat spreading through his soul, Razz hefted the rock in his hand. The googly eyes stared up at him almost plaintively. A cruel smile touched Razz’s mouth. He knew the rock meant a good deal more to Slim than it had any right to. Because Slim was sentimental. Weak. Foolish. His fingers tightened around the rock. He should toss the rock into Snowdin Forest. Maybe he’d even leave a note in the cage: “I already have a dog—I don’t need another pet” or even “We don’t live in a glass house.” There was something especially satisfying ~~and cruel~~ about using his brother’s puns against him.

It would be exactly what the dog deserved ~~for abandoning his brother~~. He’d forgotten his place again. He needed the reminder. He owed Razz _everything_. Razz was the one that kept him alive, wasn’t he? It certainly wasn’t that spider bitch, no matter what the dog’s collar read. Hadn’t Razz sacrificed _everything_ for him? Hadn’t he done everything in his power to keep them alive and safe? Did Slim even realize how close the queen had come to killing him outright? Razz had managed to talk her down, but she’d made it clear that Slim was alive only due to her Mercy. And Razz, of course. How dare he run off as soon as he caught sight of something better—be it the spider-bitch or the whelp or _anyone that wasn’t Razz_. How dare he! How _dare_ —

Razz’s chest shuddered as his breathing went rough. He put the rock back in its ‘cage’ and pressed a bruised hand against his mouth, sockets shut tight. Was he really surprised, though? The dog had always been weak-willed. Of course he would chase any shiny bit that managed to catch his eye. Razz shouldn’t be surprised. He shouldn’t even be angry. Not with the dog, at least. The dog was just that—a _dog_. If he should be angry with anyone….

Slowly, Razz lowered his hand and lifted his head. The whelp. And gutter-trash. And the others. They were the ones at fault here. The dog had been seduced by the whelp’s lackadaisical attitude and by gutter-trash’s loose control over him. And seeing the softer universes? Of _course_ he’d chase after that. He had always been a coward, afraid to fight, afraid to get his hands dirty. That’s why he needed Razz’s guidance.

Razz started toward the door, tugging his gloves on to hide the bandaging around his hands. Well. If _gutter-trash_ , of all monsters, was welcome, then Razz must be as well. Someone needed to look after the dog. Remind him of his place. ~~Remind him that they were Fell monsters. They were not allowed peace. Not even for a moment~~.

He marched outside, slamming the door shut behind him. A gust of cold air caught his cape and made it billow behind him as snow flurried around his features. A few passersby caught sight of him and immediately dropped to one knee, heads bowed. Smirking, he noted that they were shaking. As well they should. Without a word, he turned away from them and continued down to the basement, rolling his neck and loosening his shoulders.

He so rarely used the machine that he briefly faltered when faced with the complicated keypad, but soon enough, he was climbing up out of the Swap brothers’ basement and slogging through their Snowdin’s deep snow. Razz glared at it as he shook it off his boots. Why would they allow it to build up like this? Didn’t they have monsters to clear it away? Stars, what if there was a _riot_? The guard needed to be able to maneuver, and with their heavy armor, the snow drifts would slow them down far too much.

At the door, he raised a hand to knock, then decided he’d rather make a dramatic entrance. He reached for the knob, expecting to find it locked…but of course, this was the softest of the universes. He pushed the door open and stepped inside, then raised a brow-bone when he found himself facing a violet-eyed gaster blaster. Well. He certainly hadn’t been expecting _that_. Of course, as soon as he made eye contact with the dog, the blaster dissipated in a wisp of violet magic.

Slim dropped his gaze immediately and hunched into his coat, though Razz wasn’t entirely sure why. Being alert and on guard was not something Razz would ever punish him for. The others regarded him with wide sockets. Rus, standing in the doorway to the kitchen, seemed to recover first. “HELLO, RAZZBERRY. I’M SO GLAD YOU WERE ABLE TO JOIN US!”

Razz barely glanced at him—and he certainly didn’t respond to that abhorrent nickname—before his focus fixed on the whelp at his side. Red was pressed firmly against Rus’ side, like a limpet. Then he noticed gutter-trash. And the Swap brothers.

Oh. Oh, this was just _precious_.

Shutting the door behind him, Razz chuckled and swept his gaze over Edge, pinned beneath Paps and Blueberry both. “I was wondering why you two were so keen to come over here,” he said, “but it certainly makes sense now.”

Gutter-trash’s sockets narrowed, but the whelp stepped in front of the creampuff. “what’s that s’pposed ta mean?”

Razz raised a brow-bone, ignoring the way the dog hunched further into his coat. The Tale-verse monsters just looked confused. “Don’t be offended. It’s cute, really. I certainly can’t blame either of you, even if I find it somewhat distasteful. Where else would you have free and easy access to a compatible sweet-piece, after all?”

The whelp snarled and lunged for him, only for the dog to step between them, magic flickering between his fingers. Slim didn’t lift his head, but he growled, “red. back _off_.”

Trusting his brother to handle the whelp, Razz fixed his gaze on gutter-trash. Though…he was surprised to see that Edge hadn’t really reacted at all. His features were closed off and his eyelights had dimmed, but _Paps_ …Paps had lost any trace of color as the magic drained out of his features. His fingers dug into his sternum, much like the dog did when he was upset, and his eyelights had gone out completely. Gutter-trash wrapped his arms around him and pulled him close, even as Blue’s sockets went wide. “…Papy?” he asked. Something in his voice made Razz’s soul twinge, but he kept his gaze fixed on gutter-trash.

“You know, _Captain_ ,” Edge said, maintaining eye contact, “every time I look at you, I can’t help but think…being as short as you are, it must be very difficult to kiss the queen’s ass like you do.”

A low growl started up in Razz’s chest. “ _What did you just say to me?_ ”

Edge opened his mouth—presumably to dig himself an even deeper grave—but Rus swept forward, cutting off Razz’s view of the other monster. “NOW, NOW, EDGY-ME. THERE’S NO NEED TO BE RUDE! BESIDES, I AM QUITE CERTAIN SHE PROVIDES HIM WITH A STEPPING-STOOL. SHE IS A QUEEN AFTER ALL; SHE HAS _MANNERS_.” He glanced back at Edge, as if to imply that he could certainly learn a thing or two about manners.

 _What?_ It felt a little like Razz’s mind was stuttering. Did he really just—? But before he could process the comment—and figure out if the idiot actually meant it as an insult, or if he was just being an idiot—Rus ushered him toward the kitchen, saying, “WHY DON’T YOU COME WITH ME, RAZZBERRY? I STILL HAVE TO SET THE TABLE, AND SINCE EDGY-ME AND BLUE ARE BUSY—AND STARS KNOW WE CAN’T RELY ON THE LAZY-BONES FOR ANYTHING—PERHAPS YOU’D BE WILLING TO ASSIST ME?”

Razz was still tripping over his own thought processes. “What? No, I mean—don’t call me ‘Razzberry’!”

Rus blinked down at him. “WHAT ELSE WOULD I CALL YOU? I CANNOT CALL YOU SIMPLY ‘SANS’—IT IS CONFUSING ENOUGH THAT MY BROTHER REFUSES TO ANSWER TO ANOTHER NICKNAME. AND I CANNOT CALL YOU ‘CAPTAIN’; I’M AFRAID UNDYNE IS THE ONLY CAPTAIN FOR ME. I WOULD CONSIDER CALLING YOU ‘ANGRY-SANS’ BUT SOMETIMES THAT NAME SUITS CHERRY JUST AS WELL—“

Cherry? What? And what did the whelp think he was laughing at?

“—AND I CANNOT CALL YOU ‘SMALL-SANS’, SINCE BLUE IS JUST AS SMALL. I’M AFRAID THAT ‘RAZZBERRY’ IS REALLY THE ONLY SUITABLE NICKNAME. NOW CARRY THESE PLATES OUT TO THE DINING ROOM AND WE CAN SIT DOWN TO HAVE DINNER.”

Razz stared at the plates that had been shoved into his hands, looking between them and the monster smiling down at him. “I—“ He honestly wasn’t sure what do with himself. He felt nearly dizzy. Off-balance and unsure. Gathering himself, he puffed up his chest, fully prepared to drop the plates and start screaming, when Rus bent down and looked between him and living room.

“THANK YOU FOR HELPING,” he said, only barely lowering his voice, “NORMALLY BLUE AND EDGE HELP OUT, BUT THEY’RE A LITTLE WRAPPED UP IN EACH OTHER RIGHT NOW.” Wait. Was that a _pun_?! “AND SANS….” He sighed, put-upon. “I’M AFRAID MY BROTHER IS LESS THAN HELPFUL. SO I AM VERY GLAD TO HAVE YOU HERE! I HOPE YOU’LL JOIN US MORE OFTEN IN THE FUTURE~!”

Then he swept past without letting Razz get even a word in edge-wise. Razz spent several long moments staring at the far wall, trying to reboot his brain. What just happened? He honestly wasn’t sure. His fingers were starting to ache, so he shifted his grip on the plates, taking some of the pressure off his battered knucklebones. He turned to follow Rus—apparently he was going to help set the table…? how did this happen?—but Sans was there, leaning against the closed door. He had his hands stuffed in his pockets, and his shoulders were loose and relaxed. Nevertheless, his gaze was oddly penetrating as he looked at Razz, and he seemed far too confident and at ease for a monster with such abysmal stats. Razz immediately went stiff and alert.

“heya, kiddo.”

Razz blinked. _Kiddo?!_

“wanted to talk to you for a second. see, here’s the thing. my bro’s been wanting to get you and the other fell-verse monsters to join these little get-togethers since we _met_ you guys. me? i’m more than happy to have slim and edge take part. and i’ve resigned myself to the fact that red ain’t gonna let go of my bro even if you take a crowbar to him. but you? far as i’m concerned, you just make trouble.” He pushed away from the door and got up in Razz’s face. “and i don’t know what a ‘sweet-piece’ is or why it got the edgies stirred up, but if you ever say something like that again…” His eyelights went out and he cocked his head to the side, magic smoke trailing from one socket. “…we’re gonna have a problem.”

Razz glared at him. “Do you think you’re intimidating?” he demanded.

Sans, grinning at him, shoved his hands into his pockets and relaxed back into his customary slouch. “nah. scary little fell monster like you? i bet you’ve seen stuff that’d send shivers down my spine, right?” Razz growled at the pun and at being called ‘little’. “no, i don’t think you’re afraid of me. in fact…i don’t think there’s much that gets under your skin, is there?” Razz snarled again, his fingers gripping the plates. Before he could complain about the pun or snap at his alternate, though, Sans continued, “but, see, that’s the thing that i keep scratching my head over. you don’t give a shit about anyone but yourself, right? so then…why are you here?”

“I’m here to keep the _dog_ in line—“

Sans grinned. “cute, kiddo.” Razz hissed, his soul burning at the nickname and the adjective. “but don’t try to play me like that. i _see_ you,” Sans said, and suddenly, Razz could feel his sins crawling on his back. The sensation made him start and his soul shudder. “i see who you are behind all the bluff and bluster. and you know what? you aren’t anything more than a small, sad, scared little boy. so guess what? i may not be very intimidating, but at least i don’t feel the need to compensate by dressin’ up in temmie armor and callin’ myself a badass.”

Breathing hard, Razz started to speak, but his voice was weak and tremulous. “you impudent—“

“oh, and don’t even get me started on the ‘holier than thou’ attitude you’ve got. trying to make yourself feel big when, deep down, you know you’re _nothing_.” Razz’s mouth dropped open, though no sound came out. Sans winked at him. “don’t worry, kiddo; your secret’s safe with me.” Whatever he had done to make Razz feel the weight of his past deeds faded. “just mind your p’s and q’s and we won’t have a problem. right, buddy?” He slung an arm over Razz’s shoulders and squeezed companionably.

The kitchen door burst open and Rus stood there, grinning broadly. “I’M SO GLAD TO SEE YOU’RE MAKING FRIENDS, BUT RAZZBERRY, WE REALLY NEED THE PLATES NOW. THERE WE ARE! THANK YOU—AND BROTHER, DON’T THINK YOU CAN SHIRK YOUR DUTIES. YOU ARE TO FETCH NAPKINS FOR EVERYONE! AND PLEASE DO NOT DRAW ANATOMICALLY INACCURATE PICTURES ON THEM THIS TIME.”

“aw, bro, c’mon. that’s a classic.”

“BROTHER, I DO NOT WISH TO WIPE MY MOUTH ON A MALFORMED _LEG_.”

Sans chuckled. “what can i say, bro? your art’s got a leg up on mine.”

“WHY THANK YOU, SANS. IF YOU WOULD JUST PRACTICE WITH ACTUAL PAPER, I’M CERTAIN YOU COULD BE NEARLY AS GREAT AS— _WAS THAT A PUN?!_ ”

“nah, bro. would i do that _toe_ you?”

“SANS!”

Razz, numb, watched the pair of them. He was starting to realize he may have miscalculated rather severely.


	6. Not all scars are visible

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Careless words sometimes cut deep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger warning in the endnotes. Nothing extreme, but it contains spoilers.

Edge kept a wary eye on Razz as Rus gently corralled him, admiring the finesse his alternate displayed. He waited until Razz and Rus were out of the room, and to make sure that Red and Slim didn’t look like they were about to start fighting, before he focused on the monster in his arms. “Swapshit?” he asked softly, mouth right beside Paps’ acoustic meatus, “What’s your number?”

Blue, still laying on top of Paps, looked from his brother’s ashen features to Edge. His sockets were wide and his pupils shrunken from stars to fine points. “Edge?” he asked, voice small. Edge just shook his head slightly—Paps was of greater concern at the moment. He pressed a hand overtop Paps’, forcing his fingers to stop digging into his sternum.

Paps inhaled and said, shakily, “i, um…i think i need a cigarette. bro, lemme up.”

“Papy?” Blue looked between Edge and Paps, searching for an answer.

“I’ll join you,” Edge said, shifting so that Blue had to stand. He didn’t let go of Paps, though, instead standing with the other skeleton. Blue continued to search them, bewildered and upset. Edge caught his gaze and said, “We’ll be back later, pipsqueak.” He reached out a hand and brusquely knuckled the top of Blue’s head, but it did nothing to smooth away Blue’s stricken expression. Edge understood, but Paps was his priority at the moment. Silently, he promised that he would try to sort it out with Blue later.

For now, though, he carefully ushered his alternate ahead of him, ignoring Sans’ penetrating stare. Red and Slim, at least, seemed to be working things out. Edge wasn’t worried about them. Though…he sincerely hoped he wasn’t overestimating Rus or underestimating Razz’s maliciousness. Outside, he ushered Paps ahead of him, only to realize that he had miscalculated—he hadn’t factored in Blue’s persistence. The smaller skeleton was following on their heels, his expression a mix of worried and determined. “Papy,” he said, his tone firm now rather than questioning, “What happened? What’s wrong? Was it what Razz said? What did he mean by that? Are you—?”

Paps curled in on himself, clutching the front of his hoodie. “don’t worry about it, bro,” he said stiffly, “i just need a smoke break. that’s all. you know me and my habits.”

Sighing loudly, Edge resisted the urge to cuff him across the back of the head. Now was not the time. “Don’t lie to your brother,” he said sharply, then he knelt down and focused on Blue. “Listen, pipsqueak, I need you to give us some privacy.”

Blue’s small hands curled into fists, and a spark of anger hardened his features. “Edge. He’s _my brother._ Let me _help_.”

Glancing over at Paps, Edge shook his head. “It’s not up to me.”

Breath hitching, Blue stepped around Edge and looked up at Paps. “Papy? Brother? Let me—“ He reached for Paps’ hand, but Paps flinched away, shaking his head. He couldn’t meet his brother’s eyelights—just kept his head lowered and his gaze averted. In that moment, he looked uncannily like Slim.

“please, bro. just…can you give us some space?”

“But—“ Blue looked between them. His sockets wide and over-bright. Very quietly, he said, “…i can help….” When neither Papyrus moved or spoke, Blue smiled shakily and said, “O-okay, brother. I can…I can give you guys….” He inhaled sharply and said, “I should go back inside anyway. W-what kind of host would I be if…?” He shuddered and then, without another word, turned and went back inside. Though he paused at the door to give them both a lingering look. Perhaps hoping they might call him back. Edge motioned for him to go, silently promising that he would do whatever he could to help both brothers.

When he was gone, Edge stood and regarded Paps. Later, he might have a few things to say about shutting his brother out like that, but for now…. “What’s your number?”

Paps folded in on himself, fingers clutching at his shoulders. “i-i don’t know,” he said, starting to sound a little panicked. His sockets had gone wide, and he stared at Edge like a drowning man hoping for a lifeline.

Deliberately telegraphing his moves, Edge approached and carefully set a hand on Paps’ shoulder. “Easy, Swapshit. That’s okay. I’ll take care of you. I promise.” He started projecting / Control / Security / Safety / Stability /, and Paps leaned into him, soaking up the projections. Edge allowed his arms to fold around the other monster as he held him close and tight. “I’ve got you,” he rumbled, “You’re safe. You’re with me. In your own universe. You’re safe. You’re _safe_ , Swapshit. I’ve got you.” He continued to repeat himself, hoping his words might penetrate Paps’ panic.

Eventually, Paps stopped shaking. He was still pressing himself into Edge, though, and his arms were tight around Edge’s ribcage. “You have a number for me?” Edge asked softly.

“two,” Paps whispered shakily. Then he ducked his head, pressing his forehead into Edge’s collarbone. “ _fuck_ ,” he hissed, “it’s just a word. why am i—? i shouldn’t—!” He took a hitching breath, unable to finish that thought.

“Easy,” Edge soothed, running a hand up and down Paps’ spine. “I cannot believe I’m saying this…but you’re too hard on yourself. You’re allowed to be upset.”

Paps snorted. “uh-huh. is that right? i officially have your permission, boss?” His voice was still shaky despite the snark, but Edge was grateful nonetheless.

“Yes,” he said firmly, running a hand up to Paps’ cervical vertebrae and tugging lightly on the hidden collar. “You have my permission,” Edge said, and Paps inhaled sharply and suddenly. He let the breath out slowly, relaxing into Edge’s hold.

“hey, uh, edgelord? you mind if we take this inside? it’s kinda cold out here.”

“Of course we can—“

Paps teleported, and Edge jerked his head up, searching the unexpected darkness. The surface under his feet was solid, but it had more give to it than stone or ice. A horizontal slice of light split the darkness ahead of him, marking a closed doorway. He blinked a few times, relaxing when he realized that Paps had teleported them to his room. He relaxed his grip a bit and hissed against Paps’ acoustic meatus, “Warn me next time.”

“heh. sorry, edgelord. force of habit.” Paps pressed a kiss to his mandible and took a step forward, walking Edge away from the door. “do you mind?” Paps asked, “is this okay?”

Edge blinked and looked around the darkened room. Actually…he supposed it made sense that Paps would want to be in a familiar environment to calm his mind and sooth his nerves. He could even understand not wanting to turn on the lights. After all, he and Red had often hidden out in caves and small crevices when they were children. Darkness had been a longtime ally of his. “It’s fine, Swapshit. Whatever you need,” he said, allowing Paps to continue walking him backwards.

“you’re sure?” Paps asked, pulling back slightly until Edge could see the glow of his eyelights. “i don’t want you to be uncomfortable.”

Edge chuckled, scratching along Paps’ coronal suture. “I’m sure. This is—“ His foot hit the edge of the mattress, and Paps took his hand, guiding him down. “—fine.” He sat on the mattress, immensely grateful that they had changed the sheets recently. As expected, Paps immediately fitted himself against Edge…but Edge was somewhat startled when Paps started kissing him. Not lightly, either. He licked across Edge’s mandible, nipping when Edge didn’t respond. “W—“ Edge didn’t even get a complete syllable out before Paps’ tongue invaded his mouth.

He blinked. Surprised. It. It wasn’t _bad_ …but it was definitely unexpected. His own magic was starting to react, gathering along the interior of his mandible. It popped and buzzed when Paps’ magic made contact, both of them moaning into the kiss. A hand slipped under his sweater, and phalanges traced the spaces between his ribs. He broke the kiss, turning away so he could cover his mouth to muffle the sounds trying to escape. Paps chuckled, self-satisfied, before he started working his way down Edge’s neck. Tonguing the sensitive cartilage and scraping his teeth over the bone.

Edge inhaled sharply, one hand squeezing Paps’ shoulder. He shook his head, trying to clear it. Wait. How did they even get to this point? Paps was—Paps was pulling his sweater up to lick a line along Edge’s sternum, even as he raked his claws along the underside. The combination of pleasure and pain jolted him, made his hips rock. Only when Paps moaned and pressed down into him, did he realize that he’d aligned their pelvises. From the conjured heat emanating from Paps’ pubic symphysis, Edge realized that this was quickly headed in a direction he was not prepared for.

Without thinking about it, Edge wrapped a leg around Paps’ pelvis and flipped their positions. Paps squirmed, shifting under his weight. “you, uh, you wanna top?” He seemed nervous, strangely.

“I’m not fucking you, Swapshit,” Edge said firmly. Paps relaxed, settling his hands on Edge’s ilia.

“heh. well, i’m more than okay with that. ride ‘em, cowboy.”

Edge’s features flushed—he swore he could actually see the glow from his cheekbones. “That isn’t what I—“ Paps pulled his hips down and pressed up into Edge, making Edge’s words fade into a shaky moan. “ _Swapshit_ ,” Edge hissed, grabbing his hand when Paps reached for him, “We are not _fucking_.”

“not yet,” Paps agreed, “impatient, edgelord?”

“No,” Edge said, grabbing his other hand before he could make contact. “I mean—there will be no fucking tonight.”

His eyelights briefly disappeared when Paps blinked. “oh. but, you said—“

“I misunderstood your intentions. We’re not fucking. I want to help you—I _will_ help you. But not like this.”

“oh.” Some part of Edge was still prepared for anger at being denied. He was not prepared for Paps to pull in on himself and whisper, “okay. i. i understand.”

Edge looked down at him, concern mounting. “I don’t think you do,” he finally said, “What are you thinking right now? And I know it is difficult for you to be honest but please try.”

“i—“ He shook his head. Edge leaned down, gently stroking along his coronal suture as he started projecting.

“You’re safe. Now tell me what you’re thinking.”

Paps curled in on himself, even smaller. “…that you don’t want me,” he whispered, “that i’m…too…damaged….”

Edge closed his sockets, soul aching. He inhaled slowly and said, “Swapshit. _Papyrus_. I need you to listen to me—and I need you to believe what I’m telling you. Just because I’m not ready to have sex with you doesn’t mean I don’t _want_ you and it certainly doesn’t mean….” He took a shuddering breath. “Stars above, Swapshit, if anyone is too damaged—“

He cut himself off. This wasn’t about him. “I want you,” he reaffirmed, going so far as to press a chaste kiss to the corner of Paps’ mouth. “But I want _all_ of you. Not just your body, and frankly, I’m a little more worried about the rest of you right now. You’re hurting. And I think, perhaps, you’re trying to use sex as a means to ease the pain.” He kicked up the projections, continuing to scratch along Paps’ coronal suture. “I will help you, but that means I want to do more than administer a quick painkiller and leave the wound to fester.” Underneath him, Paps started laughing quietly. “What?”

“that is literally the worst analogy for sex i’ve ever heard in my life.” Edge huffed, even as Paps continued to giggle.

“Not the point,” Edge said, sighing. He sat up, looking down at the other monster. He was still hunched in on himself rather than relaxed and loose. “What’s your number?”

“what does it matter, edgelord? why don’t you just go downstairs? i’ll go back outside. have a smoke. settle down. i’ll join you guys when i’m ready.”

Edge looked down at him, unwittingly reminded of Red when he was A and D. Red often had that same dismissive tone and attitude. Like he didn’t matter. Like _nothing_ mattered. Edge narrowed his sockets and nearly facepalmed. Sometimes, he was really an idiot. Slowly, he stood, saying, “Stay.” He got up and turned on the light, careful to step lightly—he didn’t especially want the others to know they were up here. Kneeling on the edge of the mattress, he ordered, “Sit up.”

For a few seconds, Paps just looked up at him, motionless. Then, slowly, he sat up, legs folded underneath him. He was slouching forward, his shoulders bowed and his chin tucked. “like this?”

“Yes,” Edge said, careful to keep his voice soothing. He settled behind Paps, one leg on either side of the other skeleton. “May I take off your hoodie?” he asked, running a phalange over Paps’ metacarpals.

Paps, his body stiff and uneasy, looked back at him. “i thought we weren’t…?”

Magic coloring his cheekbones, Edge hesitantly touched his teeth to Paps’ cheek. “We aren’t,” he said. “The hoodie?” Paps looked down, then nodded. He started to pull the hoodie off, but Edge brushed his hands away and did it himself. Underneath, he was wearing a thick turtleneck, hiding the collar. “This too?”

“edge, if we’re not fucking…then what are we doing?” He was starting to tremble, and Edge pulled him against his chest, strengthening his projections. He ran soothing hands down Paps’ arms, squeezing each hand in turn.

“I told you, I’m going to help you.”

“ _how_?” he asked. His voice was slightly choked, and his bones rattled audibly. “are you going to-to go back and make it like it never happened? or maybe you’re going to crawl inside my head and fix whatever the fuck is _wrong_ with me?” He drew his legs up toward his chest, folding over them. “i just. i don’t want to feel like this anymore. i just want it to be over with and to not think about it and to _pretend like it never fucking happened_.” He rubbed angrily at his sockets, as if he could shove the spilling magic away.

Edge folded around him, holding him close and continuing to project. Not to drown out Paps’ own feelings, but to assure him that he was there to help, to offer support and protection. “No,” he said softly, “I can’t do any of those things. But I can be here with you, and I can remind you that there are people that care about you. People that will help you, if you ask. I can’t take away the pain, but I can aid in the healing.”

Paps’ sockets squeezed shut and his body shook as he tried not to sob. “May I?” Edge asked again, tugging at the turtleneck. Placidly, Paps raised his hands and allowed Edge to peel it away, leaving his bones bare from the waist up. Paps tried to pull in on himself, but Edge gently tugged his arms away and, pressing his mouth against Paps’ acoustic meatus, said, “put your legs down, swapshit. and set your arms to the sides. if you need something to hold onto, then grab my femurs.”

Paps didn’t move at first, and Edge thought he might have to talk him through it again or discuss the matter more thoroughly. Slowly, though, Paps lowered his legs and arms, wrapping his phalanges around Edge’s femurs. “good,” Edge said, injecting a rumbling purr into his voice. “very good.” Carefully, he brought an arm up wrap around Paps’ torso, his elbow brushing the bottom of Paps’ ribcage as his phalanges found the mark on Paps’ clavicle. He pressed Paps back against him, holding him securely.

Paps fingers tightened almost instinctively on his femurs. “i have you,” Edge whispered. His other hand snaked between their bodies, running over Paps’ spine before hooking two fingers into the collar. He gave it an experimental tug, twisting it so that it put pressure on Paps’ cervical vertebrae but didn’t choke him. “how are you feeling? is this okay?” he asked.

Paps made a strangled sound low in his throat. “i—“ He inhaled sharply. “i don’t know. i think so? i feel….” He leaned back, some of the tension leaving his bones. “safe.” His hands flexed around Edge’s thighbones, uncertain.

Edge nodded, pressing another chaste kiss to Paps’ skull. “good. we’re going to continue using the number system, and if i do anything that you’re not comfortable with, then say ‘stop’ and we’ll stop. if you’re not sure about something and need time to process it or wish to discuss it, then say ‘wait’. am i clear?”

Paps nodded. “we’re clear, boss. i understand.”

“very good.” He tugged on the collar, pulling Paps back against him, and simultaneously dug his claws into the half-healed bite mark. “you absolutely astonish me,” he murmured, kicking up his projections. “i’d never have imagined that a tale-verse monster could be so brave, so strong.”

Squirming, Paps tried to pull away, but Edge wouldn’t release him. In fact, he tugged on the collar in warning. “what are you talking about, edgelord? i’m not—“

Edge growled, earning a shiver. “you followed me into underfell because my brother was missing. because you cared so deeply about him. and you took my orders so well.” He allowed himself an approving rumble, smirking when he felt Paps shiver in response. “you put aside your pride for red’s sake—and i _know_ what pride is to a papyrus.” He chuckled, laying his hand flat against Paps’ ribcage. “you faced down monsters that would make a weaker person piss themselves. you _suffered_ terribly.”

His hand trailed down, pressing into Paps’ ribcage where he remembered seeing the damp spot on his undershirt. Paps squirmed and whimpered, but he didn’t say ‘stop’ or ‘wait’. Taking his silence as permission, Edge pulled Paps tight against him and said, “and you still got red out. you _saved_ him, papyrus. you saved him and…you came back for me. you saved us both. i could not have done it without you.” Molding himself tightly against Paps’ body, Edge continued, “so don’t you _dare_ say that you’re too ‘damaged’ and don’t you _dare_ devalue yourself. i do not waste my time on monsters that aren’t worth my attention or…affection. you are brave.” He trailed his fingers across Paps’ ribs. “and you are strong.” He ran a phalange over the half-healed bite mark. “and you are _more_ than worthy.” He turned Paps’ head and kissed him fiercely. Pulling back, he pressed his forehead into Paps’ and said, “and i’m prepared to do whatever it takes to prove that to you. understand me?”

Paps swallowed, smiling weakly. “yeah. i think i’m starting to get the picture, boss.”

“Good.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Triggers: sexual situations, (very mild) non-sexual BDSM, mild choking, and references to past abuse as well as unhealthy mindsets and coping mechanisms.


	7. Definitions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Sans demonstrates how Tale-verse monsters express displeasure, and Blue has a question he'd like answered.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oblique references to past assault, but this is an overall easy chapter.

Blue shut the door behind him, his soul heavy and aching. Papy was obviously hurt and hurting—why wouldn’t he let Blue help him? And Edge! Blue swallowed tightly. Edge was supposed to _know_. He was a younger brother too, and when he’d stayed with them, he’d been so understanding. He’d protested whenever Papy had tried to coddle him, had pointedly refused to lie or dumb things down for Blue and Papyrus. He hadn’t censored himself for Blue’s sake—aside from cutting back on the swearing—and Blue had been so grateful.

His brother’s caginess hurt, of course, but it was an old, familiar wound. Edge’s betrayal cut deeper for being so unexpected.

Blue lifted his chin and took a breath, a spark of determination in his eyelight. Well. He’d prove to them both that he could be useful, that he could _help_. His gaze drifted toward the dining room table, where the others were just starting to gather. Red and Slim were still eyeing each other warily, while the Tale brothers seemed to be escorting a rather bewildered-looking Razz between them. Blue’s soul stuttered and burned suddenly hot as he replayed the evening’s events.

_(“I certainly can’t blame either of you, even if I find it somewhat distasteful. Where else would you have free and easy access to a compatible sweet-piece, after all?” Not understanding. Knowing only that Razz had said something derogatory. Something designed to wound.)_

Swallowing tightly, Blue schooled his features, pushing down the rising rage. The intensity of his feelings surprised him. Anger, of course, wasn’t unfamiliar to him, but this? The sudden need to shake the other monster? To demand answers? To take him by the back of the neck and _show_ him exactly how much he’d hurt Papy? ~~Because, despite the rage, part of him was certain that if Razz knew the full effect of what he’d said, knew how much he’d hurt Papy, then he would be sorry. He just needed to be made to see. Blue was sure of it.~~ Those desires were unfamiliar to him, and he wasn’t fully sure how to handle them, how to react.

So he just did what he always did. Pushed down the hurt and the frustration and the anger, put on a happy face, and silently figured out how best to go about fixing this mess. Step one? Figure out what in the underground a ‘sweet-piece’ was.

Bouncing over to the table, he said, “I’m sorry! It looks like Papy and Edge decided to take a walk. I don’t….” His non-existent throat tightened, but he soldiered on. “I don’t know when they’ll be rejoining us, but I’m certain we can have plenty of fun without them!”

Razz sniffed. “Fun?” he asked, “I imagine we have very different ideas regarding what constitutes ‘fun’.”

“yeah,” Sans said, while Papyrus started serving spaghetti, “blue actually knows the meaning of the word.”

Red snickered while Papyrus just sighed heavily. “BROTHER. PLEASE. BE NICE.” He looked to Razz, smiling encouragingly. “BLUE HAS A DELIGHTFUL COLLECTION OF BOARD GAMES; I’M CERTAIN WE CAN FIND SOMETHING EVERYONE WILL ENJOY.”

“Board games?” Razz asked archly, sneering.

Another monster might have missed it, but Blue could see the way Papyrus’s grin tightened. “NOT TO WORRY, RAZZBERRY! IT IS NATURAL TO BE INTIMIDATED IF YOU ARE UNFAMILIAR WITH SUCH GAMES, BUT WE’LL GO SLOW UNTIL YOU CATCH UP. IN FACT, I’M CERTAIN EVERYONE WOULD BE MORE THAN HAPPY TO ALLOW YOU A FEW PRACTICE ROUNDS. JUST UNTIL YOU GET THE HANG OF IT!”

Blue ducked his head to hide a smile. He always loved watching Rus work. Bringing him to Grillby’s on the nights Blue helped behind the bar was the best. Especially if some of the patrons were getting a little handsy. At the end of the night, the tip jar was always full, and there were often more than a few notes of apology scribbled on clean napkins.

Meanwhile, Razz just sputtered in indignation. “I am not intimidated! Nor do I require _practice rounds_!”

“WONDERFUL!” Papyrus said, still smiling broadly. “BE SURE TO EAT THEN; YOU’LL NEED THE ENERGY FOR ALL THE FUN WE HAVE PLANNED TONIGHT! NYEH HEH HEH!”

Razz stared back at him, wearing that semi-stupefied expression everyone eventually adopted when Papyrus really turned it on. “I—“ Razz, it had to be said, was more stubborn than most. “Fine. Just. Serve the food.” Papyrus beamed at him and plopped what _might_ have been spaghetti, once upon a time and about 500 degrees ago. Razz stared at his plate while Papyrus moved on to serve the others.

Prodding it with a fork, Razz opened his mouth, obviously intent on saying something cruel, but Blue broke in and said, brightly, “Thanks, Rus!”

Rus’ smile gentled when he regarded Blue, losing the near-imperceptible edge it had adopted when he was speaking to Razz. “YOU ARE MORE THAN WELCOME, BLUE!” Guilt soured Blue’s stomach further, but even the memory of Edge’s words could not convince him to speak. He was ashamed of his cowardice, but he simply couldn’t bring himself to do it.

He and Rus shared a special connection. They were the ‘innocents’. Coddled by their brothers and their closest friends. Both of them too nice to accept the treatment with anything other than a patient smile and an internal sigh. But with each other? They were equals, unbound by the expectation of naivety. Except Blue had messed up. He’d lied early in their acquaintance, before he’d really gotten to know Rus. He hadn’t considered the long-term effects at the time, and he’d allowed himself to sacrifice honesty for the sake of being nice.

Now, the lie was so deeply entrenched that Blue wasn’t even sure how to tell the truth. What if Rus didn’t want to be his friend anymore? To another monster, it might have seemed like a small thing. But Blue knew how much it hurt Rus when his brother lied to him. He, of all monsters, should have known better. He did know better. Unfortunately, that only made things more difficult for him.

“IS SOMETHING WRONG, SMALL-ME?” Papyrus asked, looking down at Slim as he covered his plate.

Slim hunched in on himself, aware that everyone was looking at him. “i—“ His fingers slipped inside his sleeve. “ ‘m not—“

“Spit it out, dog!” Razz snapped, and Slim flinched hard.

Sans went still and stiff beside Razz, but Red stood up on his chair and glared hard at Razz. “h-hey!” he snapped, his stutter becoming a little more prominent. “fuck off! he’s _fine_. ya jus’ gotta let ‘im talk at ‘is own speed.”

“I do not have the patience to wait for the heat-death of the universe, whelp,” Razz said primly. Red growled, but Razz just raised a brow-bone in challenge. Sockets narrowed, Red’s magic eye flared, and he lifted his control hand. Blue and the other Tale-verse monsters all jerked to awareness, while Razz smiled broadly and flexed his hands.

“get dunked on, you piece of—“

Rus’ phalanges closed over Red’s control hand, and he pressed his hand against the table. “THERE WILL BE NO DUNKING!” he declared looking between Razz and Red, and doing his best to conceal the note of hesitance in his voice.

Smirking, Razz leaned forward, eyelights fixed on Red. Dismissing Rus entirely. He opened his mouth, but Blue stood up and said, very firmly, “No fighting at the dinner table. I am quite certain we can settle this amicably. As _friends_.” Red huffed, but Rus released him when he tugged on his hand. He glared hard at Razz, then dropped back into his seat, arms crossed. Razz smirked triumphantly, until a glob of spaghetti sauce hit him square on the apex of his cheekbone. Sneering, he wiped angrily at his face, then turned to eye Sans. The slightly larger monster smiled at him and waggled his fingers.

“sorry, kiddo,” he said, “my elbow must a’ slipped.” Sure enough, his elbow held down one end of the fork. The other—previously planted in the spaghetti—was now upright and dripping with red sauce. A single noodle clung to the tines.

Razz growled, and Slim was on his feet, but Rus said, “BROTHER! APOLOGIZE RIGHT NOW!”

“but bro, i already did.” The Swapfell brothers both watched the exchange warily.

“SANS, THAT APOLOGY WAS MOST INSINCERE. PLEASE APOLOGIZE AGAIN—SINCERELY THIS TIME.” Slim allowed Red to tug him back into his seat, and he leaned over to whisper something in the taller skeleton’s earhole, grinning.

“ah, bro—i was being sincere! i was being most sincere! in fact, i’m probably the most sincere skeleton in the room.” Recognizing where this was going, Papyrus rolled his eyelights and sighed, casting his gaze down at Razz to share a look. But Razz didn’t understand; he just seemed bewildered. “but here, if it’ll make you feel better, i’ll try again.” He looked to Razz and put one hand to his chest, sweeping Razz’s hand off the table to take it in his free hand. “from the bottom of my heart, razz, i am sorry.”

Grinning broadly, Red pointed out, “we ain’ got hearts; we’re skeletons.” Papyrus just closed his sockets and looked skyward, as if communing with the Angel or begging the Stars for patience.

“well shit,” Sans replied, dropping Razz’s hand unceremoniously. “hard to apologize when you’re a heartless bastard. especially _to_ a heartless bastard.” Red and Sans both started snickering. Slim, however, elbowed Red hard in the side and that quieted him almost instantly. Papyrus put a hand on his brother’s head, tapping his skull firmly but not painfully.

“LANGUAGE, PLEASE,” Papyrus said, sounding a little tired. Then he crouched down beside Razz’s chair and looked him in the eyelight, saying, “PLEASE FORGIVE MY BROTHER, RAZZ. HE CAN BE RUDE, BUT IN THE END, HE MEANS WELL.”

Still bewildered, Razz looked between them two of them. Then, apparently deciding to play along, he sniffed imperiously and said, stiffly, “I suppose I will forgive him this once.”

“hey, thanks; that’s real _big_ of you, razzy,” Sans said, smiling innocently. Red was snickering again, and Papyrus’ head dropped forward as he pressed his fingers into the ridge of bone between his brows. Normally, Blue would be inclined to sympathize with Papyrus, but this time, he found himself siding with the other Sans-es.

“You—“ Razz snapped.

“what’s the matter?” Sans asked, “you look a _little_ peaked.” Red had to press a hand to his mouth to hold in the laughter, and Blue’s smile had grown sharper and crueler.

“SANS!” Papyrus said, glaring hard at his brother. Real anger threaded through his voice, and Blue had to look away, a little ashamed that he’d been enjoying himself just as much as the others. “THAT IS MORE THAN ENOUGH!”

This time, both Sans and Red flinched. “sorry, bro.”

“I AM NOT THE ONE THAT DESERVES AN APOLOGY.”

Squirming uncomfortably, Sans glanced at Razz, then sighed and said, more sincerely this time, “sorry.” It was a short apology, but Papyrus deemed it acceptable, nodding in satisfaction.

Razz just glared at Sans, chin lifted and spine straight. The wariness in his gaze, the way his eyelights would dart to either side, obviously looking for some kind of trick or trap waiting to be sprung, reminded Blue uncomfortably of Edge. Blue might have been more inclined toward compassion, if Razz hadn’t spoken that _word_ : a word Blue didn’t know the meaning of, a word that was obviously meant to wound, and a word that had specifically wounded his brother. Blue could abide many things, but that was not one of them.

The anger started to rise again, and Blue looked down at his spaghetti and took slow, deep breaths. He hated the way tears pricked at the corners of his sockets—he was _angry_ , not sad, so why did it feel like he was about to cry? He knew himself well enough to recognize that if he tried to speak, tried to participate in the conversation, he’d lose control of himself completely, so he stuffed a lump of food(?) into his mouth and worked on that. The strange taste and indescribable texture at least gave him something else to focus on.

Around him, the others began to eat as well. Red was having the most difficulty, but he was also the most motivated to please Papyrus, so he managed several bites. Sans, honestly, seemed like he was actually enjoying himself, but he was probably used to this by now. Slim and Razz just picked at their food, neither of them taking more than a bite. Razz didn’t seem to eat at all, actually.

Rus noticed, even if he didn’t say anything. Most likely, he attributed the awkward silence and the others’ listlessness to the tense atmosphere. He wouldn’t be wholly wrong, either. All of them—except, perhaps, Razz—had been forced to choke down some of his spaghetti in the past, and they’d managed joviality and exuberance. Another surge of anger aimed at Razz welled up; this was supposed to be a fun night. This was supposed to be a chance to spend time with Edge and draw him a little closer before broaching the topic of a poly relationship. This was supposed to be a way of getting Slim out of his awful universe and away from his awful brother. Instead, Razz had followed him and he’d ruined _everything_. Blue slowed his breathing and concentrated on his plan. Anger was fine, but not if it was unfocused. Screaming at Razz wouldn’t accomplish anything.

Finally, everyone pushed their plates away, calling an end to this farce. “WELL!” Rus said, “SINCE EVERYONE’S FINISHED, WHY DON’T I TAKE THE DISHES WHILE YOU GUYS SELECT A GAME FROM THE CHEST?”

“Oh!” Blue sat up straight. This was his chance! “Papyrus, I’ll take the dishes! After all, that sink is set so low it won’t be comfortable for you to wash up. And besides—you’re my guest! Not to mention that you’ve already gone to the trouble of making dinner. You and the others can pick out a game.”

Before Papyrus could argue—and knowing him, he might, despite Blue’s perfectly logical points—Blue darted around the table, gathering plates and silverware. When he’d gathered a stack, he looked at Slim and asked, “Would you mind helping me, Slim?”

He jerked upright, obviously surprised. He dared a quick glance at Blue before his nerves overtook him and he started playing with his jacket sleeve. He looked to Razz for direction, but Razz wasn’t paying him any attention. So he looked to Red, who only shrugged. “ ‘s up ta you, bro. ya wanna help the pipsqueak? blue ain’t gonna make ya, if ya don’ wanna. none ‘a us will.”

Still fidgeting, Slim looked down at the floor, then he nodded. _Good_. Blue wasn’t sure what he would have done if Slim refused. As Slim followed him into the kitchen, Blue allowed a bubbly stream of mindless chatter to flow from his mouth. All of it fluff and nonsense, but he found it often put nervous monsters at ease. Sure enough, as Blue filled the sink with sudsy water, Slim’s shoulders began to relax, and he was looking around the room, more engaged than he had been in the other room.

Being away from his brother was probably part of it, but Blue pushed that thought away. He couldn’t afford to let even a hint of anger slip into his voice, or Slim would pull in on himself again. So he bided his time, started humming when he ran out of things to say—and that certainly got a reaction. Internally, Blue smiled, and then he started singing softly. It was one of Napstatton’s newest releases, soft and melodic. Slim actually smiled a little, his shoulders relaxing fully, as Blue passed him the next plate to dry.

Blue spared a moment for regret. He wanted Slim to be comfortable here, wanted him to feel safe. He wanted him to be _happy_. But…Blue needed to know. For his brother’s sake. So he allowed the song to trail off, humming for a few seconds before he asked, “Slim? What’s a ‘sweet-piece’?”

The plate he’d been drying dropped to the floor, breaking into three pieces. Slim’s sockets went wide and his hands fluttered, like he didn’t know what to do with himself. “It’s okay,” Blue said brightly, “Edge broke one too. It’s not a big deal.” He smiled and bent to pick up the pieces. In retrospect, he really should have waited for Slim to put the plate away before he asked. “So? What’s a sweet-piece?”

Slim clasped one hand over his humerus, hunching in on himself. “…it’s….” He took a deep breath. “not a bad thing. not an insult.”

Blue, again, schooled his features. That seemed like a blatant lie, but he wasn’t going to call Slim out on it. He just needed to listen for now. Later he’d parse the truth from the lies. He had plenty of experience with that, after all. “Oh? Then it shouldn’t be a problem telling me what it means, right?” He started sweeping the floor, gathering up the finer shards of broken plate. They wouldn’t be enough to puncture bare bone, but Alphys sometimes came to stay at their home, and it wouldn’t do to have her stepping on splinters of broken crockery.

“it’s….” Slim fidgeted with his sleeve, pushing his hand inside to rub the ulna. “a monster without any lv. they.” He swallowed, pulling his arms against his chest. Still rubbing his ulna. “they help.”

Blue paused, looking at him with upraised brow-bones. This really wasn’t what he’d been expecting to hear. “Help with what?” Slim shrugged but didn’t speak. Setting the broom and dustpan aside, Blue approached him. He pulled Slim’s arms down and started projecting. /SAFETY/CARE/LOVE/WARMTH/ **“** Slim? Help with what?” he asked, taking Slim’s hands in his own.

To his surprise, Slim knelt down in front of him, curling in on himself and staring hard at the ground. “help stay in control. when it gets too hard.”

Slowly, Blue dropped one of his hands to pull Slim against his chest, wrapping him in a hug. “Like this?” he asked, still projecting as he ran a hand down Slim’s spine.

Slim shook his head. Then he shrugged. “sometimes.”

“Sometimes.”

Slim nodded. “not…not always like this.” That seemed to be the extent of what Slim was willing to reveal, but it was obvious he was hiding something. Especially considering how Red and Edge had reacted to the word, not to mention Papy’s reaction. Continuing to project—careful to keep any hint of anger out of his expression and out of his projections—Blue stared hard at the back wall, putting the pieces together.

Papy immediately going to shower after their trip through Underfell.

The marks on Edge’s ilia.

Finding Papy curled in the corner of his room, pretending he was fine even when he obviously wasn’t.

Blue wasn’t stupid. Perhaps he could be called naïve for assuming the best of people, but he wasn’t stupid, and he wasn’t ignorant either. And even if he couldn’t fit all the pieces of this particular puzzle together, he certainly had a good outline to work off of, and he did not like the picture it formed. Anger melded with deep sorrow, and he folded around Slim, holding him tight.

He wasn’t Papy, but he would make a good enough substitute for now. Because he was here, and he was hurting too. That was another thing that Blue could not abide.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I again feel like I should apologize for this chapter. It's shorter than I'd like, but I've been struggling over it for a while, and I thought that it might be best to just call it good and move on.
> 
> I apologize if it's somewhat lackluster.


	8. Unseen chains

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which the games begin, but Slim isn't having much fun at all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning for: Intrusive thoughts, anxiety, negative view regarding self-worth, thoughts of self-harm, references to past self-harm, references to bone breaking, non-graphic mention of consensual body modification and consensual pain play, mild consensual BDSM elements.

It felt so good, being held like this. Blue’s projections were so peaceful and calming. Slim hadn’t even realized how badly he’d needed it. Especially after the fight with Red, and Razz’s sudden appearance, and—Slim took a deep breath and clung tighter to Blue. He hadn’t really wanted to tell Blue what a sweet-piece was. In part because he knew the Tale-verse monsters simply couldn’t understand the concept.

A sweet-piece was a source of comfort in a dark world. They were gentle and _safe_ and _good_. Growing up in the palace, both he and Razz had been acquainted with the queen’s pieces. For the most part, Slim had fond memories of them. They had provided a gentle influence when Slim was afraid or upset, when the queen insisted he was useless or when Razz pushed him away. More than once, he was fairly certain they’d been the only ones to keep him from doing something regrettable.

As he’d grown older, though, he’d come to understand that they were not there by choice. That they were prisoners, even if they lacked chains. That the queen treated them as interchangeable and…disposable. It was not a reality he liked thinking about, and he had been so relieved, on meeting their Tale-verse alternates, that they weren’t like this because of some protective but restraining hand, but simply because their whole universe was so much sweeter than his.

Yes, in his eyes, they were sweetpieces. He didn’t see that as a bad thing, though, but as a blessing. They were beacons. They were safety. They were care and affection and warmth. Everything the average Fell monster couldn’t hope to access. He certainly didn’t blame the Fell brothers for seeking refuge in the softer universes. He wished Razz was more willing to do so. It would be good for him, Slim thought.

Thinking of Razz, Slim pulled back, looking toward the door. “I can take care of the last few plates,” Blue said brightly, scratching his coronal suture. Slim eyed the sink, then turned back to Blue, brow-bones raised. “Don’t worry about it,” Blue reassured him, “Go join the others. I’ll be out in a minute.” He smiled broadly, and Slim ducked his head, nodding obediently. He stood up, slipping his fingers into his sleeve to finger the scars on his ulna.

He glanced quickly at Blue, wondering if he was being dismissed because he’d done something wrong or if Blue was annoyed with him. But Blue just continued to grin at him, no trace of annoyance or anger or anything else in his eyelights. Slim offered a weak smile, then dropped his gaze and left the kitchen to rejoin the others, only to draw up short when faced with the cacophony in the living room. Razz and Red were arguing over a chest of board games, while Rus stood between them, hands fluttering helplessly.

Sans, meanwhile, lounged at the table, idly shuffling a deck of cards. Soul humming with anxiety, Slim sidled along the wall, not wanting to be included in the argument. Sans looked up as he approached, grinning. “go fish?” he asked. Slim looked between him and the other group—

“—none of these are worth my time or attention! They’re childish.”

“then don’ play. not like anyone invited ya anyway.”

“CHERRY! WE ARE MORE THAN HAPPY TO HAVE RAZZBERRY JOIN US FOR GAME NIGHT!”

—and he winced. With a nod, he sat down and gestured for Sans to deal the cards. “heh. don’t worry. we’ll have a _tuna_ fun without ‘em.”

Slim blinked, surprised by the pun. Then he ducked his head and smiled. “shoal we will,” he said, though he stumbled over the ‘we’ and his voice faded out almost entirely on the last syllable. Sans chuckled, and Slim’s soul stuttered in response. But he wondered if the laughter was forced. ‘Shoal’ for ‘sure’? That wasn’t funny, was it? Sans was just humoring him.

Slim ducked his head, numbly sorting through his cards, and wincing as Razz carelessly tossed a board game back into the chest and scoffed loudly. Red growled something in response, though Rus interceded quickly. Slim hunched further in his seat, wishing the two of them could be civil, even if they couldn’t get along. He doubted Red was at all invested in choosing a board game in the first place. He just didn’t want Razz to have his way, and Razz was too proud to accept anything he thought might damage his dignity or reputation.

“WELL,” Rus said suddenly, speaking overtop the bickering Sans-es, “IF NONE OF THESE ARE TO YOUR TASTE, WHAT DO YOU SUGGEST WE PLAY, RAZZ?”

Razz fell completely silent, and Red scoffed. “yeah. that’s what i thought. ‘s easier ta complain an’ criticize than it is ta actually make a suggestion ‘a yer own, ain’t it?”

Slim sank deeper into the chair, wishing he could just disappear. The tension in the room was starting to make his soul hum. He wished he could go back into the kitchen with Blue, but then Blue would want to know why he was there, and Blue probably didn’t want him around anyway, right? He would just get underfoot. He’d be in the way. Stars, he couldn’t even wash dishes without breaking a plate! He was lucky they had even invited him. They’d probably just done it because they felt like they had to. No one really wanted him here. He was _useless_ —

Razz lifted his chin and sniffed derisively. “I don’t really see the point in playing at all,” he said, dismissively.

“good,” Red said, “then you can go—“ Rus covered his mouth before he could finish that sentence.

Razz glared at him for a long moment, then finished by saying, “The only game of any worth is _chess_ , and I can’t imagine that any of you know how to play.” Slim winced. He knew how to play. He and Razz used to play fairly often, actually. They hadn’t played for months now, though. Maybe even a year or more. Razz had no patience for Slim’s indecisiveness, and Slim couldn’t handle his brother’s critical staring. Sometimes he missed those nights though; years ago, before Razz became Guard Captain, before Alphys had turned traitor…they had had fun together. Teasing each other. Playing. Laughing. ~~Slim didn’t doubt that the change was his fault. He should have done a better job of protecting his brother from the Queen. Should have—~~

“i play,” Sans offered, not looking up from the cards in his hand.

Razz froze, and Slim only glanced at him before ducking his head again. “ _You_?” Razz asked, marching over to lean against the table and leer at Sans. The chairs were too tall for Razz to loom properly, but he made a valiant attempt.

Sans didn’t even glance at him. “yep,” he said, popping the ‘p’. He looked up at Slim. “you got any queens?” he asked, winking. Slim shook his head, not daring to so much as glance at Razz. “’s too bad,” Sans said, drawing a card, “’cause i hear king fluffybuns is looking.”

Strangely, Red flinched at that and buried his face in the chest of board games, rooting around as if searching for something in particular. Razz, however, would not be distracted. He leaned forward, planting a hand in front of Sans so that the other monster was forced to look at him. “ _You_. You play chess?”

Sans sighed and laid his cards down, propping his elbow on the table and leaning his cheek on that fist. “yeah? why? you wanna play or something?”

Razz made a considering sound then waved him off. “I can’t imagine that you would offer much of a challenge,” he said, but he glanced quickly at Sans, assessing and eager.

“can’t imagine i would,” Sans agreed readily, picking up his cards again. “so if you’re not interested, why don’t you—“

But Razz was shooing Slim out of his seat, and he ordered, “Go fetch a chessboard.” Slim hovered by the table uncertainly for a few seconds, but Rus saved him by digging out a game board and the necessary pieces.

“HERE!” he said brightly, hands on his hips as Razz started to arrange the pieces. “I’M SO PLEASED WE FOUND A GAME YOU COULD ENJOY, RAZZB—“

Razz shooed him away. “Yes, yes. Now go. You’re very distracting.”

Rus deflated a little, but a moment later, he lifted his chin and locked gazes with Slim. “WHY DON’T YOU COME WITH ME, SMALL-ME?” Slim looked uncertainly at Razz, but his brother didn’t even glance at him. Tugging on his sleeve, Slim followed Rus over to the chest of games. Red had two in his hands, and he was inordinately focused on them. Slim lightly touched his shoulder, cocking his head slightly. Red glanced at him, then shook his head minutely.

Slim didn’t remove his hand, but he didn’t ask what had Red upset either. “one ‘a these?” Red asked, looking to Rus for approval. Rus beamed at him, and Slim felt some of the tension leave Red’s bones as a pleased smile spread across his features.

“CERTAINLY, CHERRY!” Slim smirked at the nickname, glancing down at Red. Seeing the crimson blush spreading across his cheekbones, Slim lightly squeezed Red’s shoulder, an amused smirk tugging at his features. Red immediately glowered at him and threw his hand off his shoulder, earning a quiet chuckle. Rus smiled politely, though he seemed rather confused by the interplay. “WHICH WOULD YOU PREFER?” Red shrugged, and Slim froze when both of them turned to him. “DO YOU HAVE A PREFERENCE, SMALL-ME?”

Hand in his sleeve, picking at the raised scars, he looked at the ground, wishing Rus would stop looking at him. “no,” he finally managed.

“ARE YOU CERTAIN?” Rus asked, brow-bones furrowed. “I QUITE LIKE BOTH OF THESE, SO IF YOU HAVE ONE THAT YOU’D PREFER TO PLAY, PLEASE LET US KNOW.”

Slim curled in on himself, frustrated and angry. Not with Rus, but with himself. He knew that Rus was just trying to be nice. To make sure he felt included. Really, though, he’d have preferred it if he was just allowed to sink into the background. Invisible. Unnoticed and unremarked. That was safest. ~~Being noticed could only end in pain or death~~.

Not here, though. He knew it was different here. He knew Rus wasn’t going to hurt him or yell at him, and certainly no one was going to kill him. But that only frustrated him further. If he knew it was different here, then why was he having so much trouble with this? Why couldn’t he just _be normal for once—?_

“hey,” Red said, catching his hand, “bro. ‘s okay. ya don’ gotta pick if ya don’ wanna. ya can jus’—“

Slim shook his head fiercely, then jabbed a finger at one of the boxes, not bothering to see what he had picked. Rus, still smiling, said brightly, “EXCELLENT CHOICE, SMALL-ME! I’LL SET UP THE BOARD.”

He went over to the coffee table, pushing back the couch and piling cushions and pillows around the low table. Red, meanwhile, remained beside Slim, studying him. Slim tugged his hood up, tucking his face into the ruff. “ ‘m fine,” he muttered, wishing it would dissuade Red from looking at him like that, but the concern in his gaze was obvious.

“ya sure? ya look a little—“

“ ‘m _fine_ ,” he said, pulling a sucker out of his pocket and popping it into his mouth.

Red eyed him, but didn’t press. “if ya say so.”

“i do,” he said.

Red raised a placating hand. “fine, fine—“ Whatever else Red might have had to say was interrupted as the front door banged open. Slim’s eyelight flared, but he managed to restrain his control hand. It had been embarrassing enough, pulling a blaster on his own brother. He certainly wasn’t going to aim one at Paps or Edge. The other Papyrus-es kicked the snow off their boots and brushed the flakes from their shoulders before they stepped inside. “heya, boss!” Red said, and Slim silently thanked the stars for the distraction. Better Edge and Paps than Slim. “where’ve you two been, huh? we already had dinner.” He eyed them carefully, suspicious of…something, apparently.

“We’ve been cuddling upstairs for the last hour,” Edge snapped shortly. When Red snorted in disbelief, he added, “Where the fuck do you think we’ve been, runt? We went on a walk.” Rus immediately chastised him for his language, but Slim didn’t miss the slight orange flush across Paps’ cheekbones. He cocked a brow-bone. Well. That was interesting.

“yeah? long walk.”

“You’re right, brother,” Edge said derisively, “We were actually fucking in the alley. Is that what you want to hear?”

“EDGY-ME!” Rus said, straightening, “THERE’S NO NEED TO BE CRUDE. ‘WE WERE MAKING LOVE IN THE ALLEY’ IS MUCH NICER, DON’T YOU THINK?” Edge sputtered, but Paps ducked his head and started laughing.

“yeah. much nicer,” he agreed, chuckling when Edge turned to glare at him.

“Rus—we weren’t—there was no—“ He sighed heavily and massaged the space between his brow-bones, while Red snickered and Rus continued to smile innocently. “What game did we eventually settle on, then?” he asked tiredly.

Rus started to explain just as Blue walked in from the kitchen, drying his hands on a dishtowel. He surveyed the living room, raising a brow-bone when he saw that Razz and Sans were apparently doing their best to ignore everyone else in favor of studying the chessboard before them, but as soon as he caught sight of his brother and Edge, he lit up once more. “Brother! Edge! I’m so glad you’re back!”

To Slim’s amusement, Blue darted forward to take Edge by the hand and drag him over to the table, nearly demanding that they sit together. Paps followed more sedately, easing into place on Edge’s other side. For a moment, Edge looked a little confused. “You wouldn’t rather sit next to your brother?” he asked.

Blue smiled, and there was definitely something mischievous in that expression. “No,” he said, “I’m quite happy right here.” He leaned into Edge, and Paps followed suit, slinging an arm over Edge’s shoulders. Edge looked between them, clearly startled. Especially when Blue brushed his hand over Edge’s as he reached for a game piece. Deliberately. He had definitely done that deliberately. “Have you ever played this game before?” Blue asked, and Edge shook his head. “Don’t worry. I can teach you,” he said brightly. And though his words were entirely innocent, something in his tone or facial expression made Edge blush faintly.

“c’mon, bro,” Red said, gesturing Slim forward. Red sat down beside Rus, leaving a space for Slim between him and Blue. Chewing nervously on the sucker, Slim took his seat and accepted the game piece Red offered him.

“So?” Edge asked, “What are the rules?”

Papyrus dug out the rulebook and read from it. Slim’s soul twisted as he realized that this was actually a fairly complex game. ~~Razz had been wrong when he called it childish~~. It certainly wasn’t a children’s game, despite the bright colors on the box art. Slim fit the sucker between his teeth and bit down, trying to ignore the inner voice that insisted he was never going to remember any of the rules and that they were going to think he was stupid because he _was_ stupid—

Leaning into him, Red muttered under his breath, “geeze. creampuff and blueberry don’ mess around, do they?” A smile tugged at Slim’s features, but his reply—‘game night is serious business’—stuck in his throat. Briefly, Red’s words calmed him down, reminded him that he wasn’t the only one here unfamiliar with the game. It was nice to have an ally, too. A friend at his side. Whenever he had a question about the rules, he squeezed Red’s hand and the other monster would ask for him. Gratitude welled in his soul… ~~though frustration with his ridiculous limitations reared up as well. Red shouldn’t have to look after him like this. It wasn’t his job. He wasn’t even his brother. And surely, Red would eventually grow tired of holding his hand and helping him through the most basic of social interactions. It was only a matter of time before Red realized exactly how useless he was and abandoned him entirely.~~

He tried hard to ignore his mounting anxiety. Tried to will it away. He’d already chewed through the first sucker and started on the second, wishing he had the courage to simply go outside and smoke. But he’d have to excuse himself, to explain where he was going, and he couldn’t bring himself to speak. Even a simple ‘yes’ or ‘no’ seemed like it would be beyond him right now. Thankfully, the game didn’t require any speaking, or he might have broken down entirely.

About twenty minutes into their game, Razz suddenly stood on his chair and exclaimed, “ _No_. I don’t believe it.”

Sans leaned back and chuckled. “what’s the matter, kiddo? didn’t expect a tale-verse monster to kick your—“

“BROTHER!”

“—hiney?”

Razz leaned close, looking at the chessboard. “You actually did. I—“ A broad, open smile broke across his features, and he looked across the table at Sans. “I’m impressed,” he said, “I didn’t think you had it in you.”

It obviously wasn’t the response Sans was expecting. He faltered, a light blue blush coloring his cheekbones. “it-it wasn’t—”

“Let’s see if you can do it again, shall we?” Razz asked, resetting the board eagerly. The other monsters stared, but Slim was just glad to see his brother finally allow himself a bit of fun.

He wished his own soul would settle, wished he could relax enough to enjoy himself as well. Tension thrummed through his bones, and he was hyperaware of every little word, every shift in facial expression, every exhalation. His fingers tightened over his ulna as Blue leaned close to Edge and offered some bit of advice. Blue was grinning openly, fingers on Edge’s femur. It was making Slim anxious. He kept waiting for Paps to growl or for Edge to escalate the little gestures. But Paps just seemed mildly amused, maybe even encouraging, and Edge just looked bewildered. If Slim wasn’t so upset, he might have found the faint dusting of red across his cheekbones cute.

As it was, though, his soul just buzzed uncomfortably, and he pulled in on himself as Red leaned around him to glare at Blue. He’d assumed that Paps would be the source of trouble, but he’d forgotten about Red. He struggled to keep his breathing steady, waiting for Red to start something. Waiting for the yelling. For the violence. For the—

 _(dust in the air dust on his hands dust being pulled into his mouth his airways his_ s o u l _)_

—Before he realized it, he was on his feet, hands shoved into his pockets. He turned on his heel and marched outside without saying a word, feeling the others’ gazes on his back. He shut the door behind him but only briefly entertained the idea of just sitting on the porch and smoking. They’d be talking about him, now. Wondering what was wrong with him. Wondering why he was such an idiot. Why he was so useless defective _completely worthless—_

He took a shuddering breath and continued around the side of the house and down the stairs to the machine, knowing he would have to outpace Red. He didn’t pause any longer than it took to boot up the machine, and as soon as he was back in his universe, he teleported directly to Muffet’s bedroom, texting to warn her he was there. She was still working. She wouldn’t have time for him until later. But that was okay.

He stripped to his undershirt, pulling off his heavy, protective jacket. He tugged on his collar, making sure it was on prominent display. Then he knelt down in front of the bed, facing the door. He tucked his earbuds into his acoustic meati, turning the volume up until he couldn’t hear his own thoughts. He crossed his arms behind his back and took hold of his ankles, restraining himself. ~~Keeping his hands from finding his ulna and pulling until it snapped~~. Waiting patiently for her to return.

Muffet would know what to do. She would know how to take him apart and, most importantly, how to put him back together again. He just needed to wait and obey her rules. _(A splint on his ulna and bandaging on his arms. ‘You are mine. Only I may mark these bones,’ written on a page before him. A tug on the purple collar prompting him to bow his head. Fingers tracing over his scapula: a question. Saying, “please,” in response. A brief pause. Then pain as she etched a mark into his scapula. Tears welling in his eyes, a mix of pain and relief and gratitude strong enough to choke him. Thinking,_ she wants me. she wants me. she won’t abandon me. she wants me. she _wants_ me. _)_

He listened to the music echoing through his skull and gripped his ankles tight, trying to steady his breathing. Muffet would be back soon. She’d take care of him. She would. She loved him. She wanted him. She would know what to do.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well look at that. Some mild Rottenjoke that isn't entirely antagonistic. Progress.


	9. Boundaries

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Blue puts his foot down and extends an invitation.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: references to past sexual assault, LV issues.

As soon as Slim stormed out, Red stood, ready to chase after him. Edge, Paps, Rus, and Blue just looked at each other, bewildered. Was it something they’d said? Razz, however, barely glanced up. He waved a dismissive hand and told Red, “Sit down, whelp. He’s fine. Just one of his snits. He’ll get over it.”

Red stopped in the middle of the living room, and Edge held in a sigh, pressing his thumb into his nasal ridge. “whadidya jus’ say?” Red asked, turning to glare at Razz.

Rather than back down, like a sane monster, Razz smirked and leaned an elbow on the table. “Your concern is adorable,” he said, flicking his fingers dismissively, “but it’s unnecessary. The dog can take care of himself.”

Red looked between him and the door, then stalked toward Razz. “listen here, ya little—“

“Runt!” Edge’s voice split the air like a whip-crack, and Red froze in response. “Enough. Sit down.” Growling, Red nevertheless froze in his tracks, and though his fists were clenched in rage, he turned away, walking back to his seat stiffly.

Smirking, Razz chuckled and said, “Good boy. Heel.” Red snarled, but Edge caught him by the shoulder and drew him in, restraining him. He glared at Razz and opened his mouth, ready to remind the other skeleton that Red wasn’t his dog. Before he could say anything, though, Blue spoke instead.

“Get out.” He stood ramrod straight beside Edge, his features completely drained of color. He didn’t raise his voice. He didn’t have to. Everyone fell silent, staring at him with wide sockets.

“Excuse me?” Razz asked.

“You heard me, Razz,” Blue replied, voice clipped and perma-smile frozen. “Get out of our house. You are not welcome here anymore. Please leave. _Now_.”

Razz blinked, obviously bewildered. “But I—“ He looked at Edge and Red. Still restrained by Edge, Red nonetheless felt compelled to hook two fingers through his socket and stick out his tongue. For good measure, he also raised his middle finger in salute. Edge flicked him on the back of the head, and Red put down his hands, still smiling viciously. “But _they_ —“

“Are welcome here,” Blue said sharply.

“I—“ Razz looked at the others then, and Paps briefly met his socket.

Clearing his throat, he leaned around Edge to tug on Blue’s shirt. Under his breath, he asked, “bro? don’t you think you’re being a little harsh here?”

Blue spoke clearly, gaze still fixed on Razz. “He comes into _my_ home. Insults _my_ friends—one of whom is his own brother—and contributes nothing but sarcasm and petty cruelty. No, Papy, I’m not being too harsh.”

Sans stood and cleared his throat, looking at the ground and scuffing his toe against the carpet. “c’mon, kiddo. i’ll walk ya out.” He glanced at Razz.

Looking between him and the others, Razz finally said, “I don’t understand. What did I do?”

Clapping him on the shoulder, Sans gave him a friendly smile, something like pity in his eyelights. “i’m happy to explain it to you. c’mon.” With a last glace at the others, Razz allowed Sans to guide him outside. Straightening his jacket, Red lifted his chin and started to follow them. Edge caught him by the collar and drew him back.

“Where the hell do you think you’re going?”

“what?” Red asked, all innocence, “i was gonna go help blue-boy explain things ta the esteemed captain.”

Rolling his eyelights, Edge said wryly, “I think short-stuff can manage on his own. Sit down.”

“fine!” Red said, flopping down onto the couch. Under his breath, he muttered, “never allowed ta do anythin’ fun.”

Rus stood and turned to Blue, putting a hand on his shoulder. “ARE YOU OKAY, BLUE?”

Shaking his head as if to clear it, Blue smiled brightly and allowed the stars to return to his sockets. “I’m fine!” he said, but Edge didn’t believe it. Not for a moment. From the worried look Rus gave him, the other skeleton wasn’t buying it either. Clearing his throat, Blue said, “I’m sorry, everyone. This isn’t how I wanted things to go tonight.”

Red snorted from his place on the couch. “ ’s not yer fault the shrimp decided ta stop by an’ piss all over yer—“

“CHERRY! DON’T BE VULGAR!”

Red actually blushed and hid his face in the ruff of his coat. Edge could only shake his head, amused and exasperated—Red wasn’t even half as repentant when he chastised him. Edge scrubbed Blue’s skull, running his fingers over his coronal suture. “You did fine, pipsqueak. You’ve been an excellent host given the circumstances,” he said delicately. Hosting one Fell-verse monster was a feat in and of itself—hosting four without any dust-shed was actually quite impressive. “Perhaps it would be best if we were to go home now, though.” He looked at Red. “It’s getting late and we have work tomorrow.” Red groaned, covering his face with a pillow, but Edge ignored his over-dramatics, rolling his eyelights even as he repressed a smile.

Blue surprised him again, reaching out to catch Edge’s shoulder. “Actually, I was hoping you might want to stay.” Edge raised a brow-bone, not at all sure where this was going. Blue smiled brightly, head cocked and sockets narrowed by his broad smile. “I have a new book on puzzles I thought you’d be interested in. Papy usually reads to me before bed, but I know he’s not very interested in dynamic puzzle mechanics.”

For a few seconds, Edge just stared at him. “…you want me to read you a bedtime story?”

From the couch, Red cackled, earning a glare from Edge. “if that’s what ya wanna call it.” He sat up, grin sharp. “so, paps—yer okay with this? lettin’ yer _bonefriend_ , heh, ‘read’ ta yer little bro?”

“Runt!” Edge snapped, his cheekbones flushed.

Paps just smiled placidly and looped an arm over Edge’s hips, squeezing once before releasing him. “what blue and edge get up to is their own business.” Then he smirked. “but i bet if you ask real nice, rus’ll let you read to him before bed too,” he added with a wink.

Red flushed a brilliant crimson and started to sputter, choking on his own tongue. Rus just beamed. “AN EXCELLENT SUGGESTION, LAZY-ME!”

“no problem, cool-me,” Rus said.

Bounding over to the couch, Rus looked down at Red, still tongue-tied and blushing furiously. “SO, CHERRY? WOULD YOU LIKE TO COME HOME WITH ME?” Red made a strangled sound in response, but it was close enough to assent for Rus to say, “EXCELLENT!” and scoop him up. Red clung to him, arms around his shoulders and phalanges digging into his scapulae. Rus turned and waved good-bye to the others—and…winked at Blue?—before flouncing out of the room. Still standing, Edge managed to catch Red’s eyelight, relaxing only when Red gave him a tentative thumbs up before he was carted off.

Shoulders dropping, Edge only then realized that left him alone with the Swapbrothers. Warmth inexplicably flooded his cheekbones—he couldn’t understand it. He’d spent the whole day alone with them when he’d been injured, and he’d been by to visit since then as well. He’d never been uncomfortable before. In fact, the entire notion that he might be nervous or-or _shy_ , of all things _,_ was completely ridiculous. Ignoring the flush across his cheekbones, he lifted chin slightly, as if challenging either of them to test his resolve.

Paps smiled pleasantly and, stretching, said, “welp, i’m gonna head to bed. you’re welcome to join me later, edgelord.” He winked, while Edge’s blush deepened. Blue, however, giggled and tugged on Edge’s hand.

“Papy, you’ve monopolized plenty of Edge’s time tonight—now it’s my turn!”

“aw, bro—i meant after you two were done.”

Frowning, Edge looked between them and said sharply, “I am not a _toy_ to be fought over—nor do I appreciate being treated as one.”

That actually caused both of them to flinch. “right,” Paps said, rubbing the back of neck. “sorry, edgelord. didn’t really mean it like that….”

Blue too looked downcast—and there was something uneasy in his expression as well, like he’d just made an uncomfortable realization. “Sorry,” he echoed, “I didn’t really think about what I was saying.” Looking between them, Edge judged their apologies to be genuine. He nodded once and uncrossed his arms.

“So? This book?” The stars returned immediately to Blue’s eyelights, and he grabbed Edge’s hand, tugging him up the stairs enthusiastically. Edge followed willingly enough, glancing back at Paps once. The other skeleton just smiled and lifted a hand.

“goodnight, edgelord.”

Before Edge could respond, Blue pulled him into his room, and they were alone. Edge walked a slow circuit of the room, noting that not much had changed since he’d been in here last. Blue climbed up his bookshelf, chattering excitedly about the book. Edge came up behind him, ready to catch him if he were to fall—and hoping he wouldn’t bring the bookcase down on both of them. “Ah! Here it is!” Blue said, digging it out of the shelf. Edge raised a brow-bone when he passed the book over. It wasn’t an old book, necessarily, but there was a visible crease down the spine, and it had taken him a while to locate.

Jumping down from the bookshelf—and causing Edge to visibly startle—Blue bounced over to the bed, maintaining his stream of happy chatter. “—usually sits with me on the bed, but you can pull up a chair if you’d be more comfortable with that.”

Edge looked between him and the book. He held it up and caught Blue’s eyelight. “Pipsqueak, did you really call me up here for a bedtime story?”

Blue stilled, his smile dropping. “Um.” He rubbed the back of his neck. “Well…yes?” Edge’s brow-bone crept higher. Blue winced and dropped his hands into his lap as he settled on the edge of the bed. “I thought…it would be a good place to start before I asked you about Papy.”

Sighing, Edge nodded to himself. He’d figured as much. “Blue, I already told you—it’s not my place to tell. It’s his business.”

“I know what a sweet-piece is,” Blue said abruptly. Edge’s spine stiffened. “I asked Slim.” He took a steadying breath. “I want to know why that word would upset him so much.”

Refusing to look at Blue, Edge muttered, “I want to know why Slim thought he should—“

“Edge, was my brother sexually assaulted?” Spoken so bluntly, and by a monster that shouldn’t have any need to fear such things, the words were especially cutting. Edge flinched. “Was he raped?” Blue continued, his voice starting to crack, “Were you?” That was a bit too much for Edge. His fingers twitched and he cast his gaze over the room, for once wishing Blue wasn’t quite so neat and orderly. “Edge—?”

“Enough,” Edge said sharply, heading for the door. “I’m not discussing this—“

A hand caught his, and he growled, but he forced himself to remain still and unreactive, reminding himself that Blue was not a threat, Blue would not harm him. Magic thrummed through his mana lines, the nodes pulsing hot as his vision went fuzzy around the edges. His LV was acting up. He just closed his sockets and breathed through it, forcing it back, pushing it down. Blue noticed. “…Edge?”

Edge shook his head, focused on keeping his Intent benevolent. “Let go of my hand, Blue.”

Blue obeyed, sockets wide with concern. “What can I do?” he asked, voice soft.

Edge thought about it. He’d always relied on Undyne to help him settle down, not trusting himself around Red when he felt so unstable. “Talk,” he said, after a moment, “Not about _that_. Something else.”

For a second, Blue remained silent. Then he tentatively tugged on the book still in Edge’s hand. Edge released it, and Blue said, “Why don’t you come sit over here?”

Still feeling oddly loose—like he might simply drift away at any moment—Edge followed Blue to the bed and sat on the ground, leaning against the side of the bed. Blue offered him a blanket. Edge accepted it, but he just kept it neatly folded in his lap, staring down at it like he didn’t know what to do with it. Blue sat on the edge of the bed beside him and started to read.

At first, it was just background noise. All of Edge’s attention was focused on staying sane. He drew breath into his soul, feeling it expand, and held it there, counting beats. He exhaled slowly, imagining the magic gathered in his magic nodes was being pulled back into his soul with each exhalation. Looking down at his hands, he noted with a kind of detached alarm that his fingers were shaking and the joints were glowing red with excess magic. He shut his sockets and took another deep breath. Counting.

1…

2…

3…

4…

5…

Another exhale, slow and steady. Through the fog, he took note of Blue’s voice—steady and even. Was there a trace of fear in it? The idea managed to penetrate his fogged mind. Thinking that a _Sans_ might be afraid of him did a lot to bring him back to himself. He smoothed his fingers over the blanket, feeling the care and intent imbued in the stitching. Whoever made it had made it with love. He unfolded it and wrapped it around his shoulders, allowing the loving intent to wrap around him. Only then did he pick up on Blue’s projections—/AFFECTION/CARE/SAFETY/WARMTH/LOVE/.

He leaned back, allowing the projections to sink into his soul. He let out an unsteady exhale as they penetrated, like a balm on a wound. Blue’s words on puzzle theory and dynamics actually started to register, and he focused on them, furrowing his brows and asking him to repeat the last passage. Blue obeyed, voice still steady and strong, but the faint note of fear had been replaced with relief.

When Blue finished the chapter, he set the book in his lap and asked, “Edge? Are you alright?”

Edge tilted his head back, giving the question some consideration before answering. “Mostly,” he finally said.

Blue sniffed. “…I’m sorry,” he said, “I didn’t mean to—“ Edge turned to look at him, sockets going wide when he realized that Blue was crying. He stood immediately and sat down beside him, draping one arm over his shoulders so they were both wrapped in the quilt. “I-I’m so sorry,” Blue said, voice thick. It was like a plug had been pulled. Now that Edge knew he was crying, Blue wasn’t able to control himself anymore. The tears fell faster and his breathing hitched. “Y-you must be so mad at me. I k-keep messing u-up, but I j-just want to _help_.”

Curling around him, Edge ran a hand up and down Blue’s back, pulling him close. “You did help, pipsqueak,” he said softly, “More than I would have expected.”

“B-but I—it was my fault to begin with!”

Edge just shook his head, sighing. “No,” he said, “It’s not your fault. It’s my LV. Just about anything—or nothing—can set it off. You didn’t do anything wrong. You managed to talk me down and keep me _here_. You did well, pipsqueak.” He scratched along Blue’s coronal suture, trying to coax him into purring. Still crying, though not as dramatically as before, Blue allowed himself to sink into Edge’s side, pressing his forehead into Edge’s ribcage. He didn’t purr, but his small body started to relax, and Edge had to content himself with that small victory.

They remained like that for a while, silently comforting each other. Finally, though, Edge decided that he needed to address the elephant in the room. “I’m not going to get in the middle of this,” he said. “It’s between you and your brother. You two need to talk to each other.” He ignored the bitter taste of his own hypocrisy, thinking of all the things that he and Red simply skirted around. He still didn’t know what kind of deal Red had struck with Asgore. And Red still didn’t know the full extent of Edge’s experiences with Muffet.

“He’s not going to talk to me,” Blue complained.

Edge could only shrug. “In this case, that’s his prerogative.”

“I just want to help him.”

“I know, pipsqueak. But…some things….” He sighed, tilting his head back. “Some things are difficult to think about, let alone discuss freely.” Blue burrowed into his side, squeezing tight. The strength of his grip was actually somewhat surprising.

“…I hate this,” Blue finally said, sniffing again, “I hate that he’s hurting, and I hate that I can’t do anything to help him. I hate that I can’t fix it.”

Edge chuckled, though the sound was bitter rather than amused. “I know, pipsqueak. I know.” He scratched Blue’s coronal suture, finally earning a faint, stuttering purr. “Just keep doing what you’re doing,” he said carefully. “It helps more than you know.”

Blue nodded, though he didn’t look especially reassured. “…edge?” he asked softly.

“Hmm?”

“Would you…would you stay?”

“…Blue, I think we’ve had this discussion before.”

“No,” he said, “Just…just for tonight.” Edge hesitated.

“I….”

“Please,” Blue said, gripping Edge’s hand tightly. “Papy won’t let me help him…but you can.”

Edge sighed, cursing himself. “…you have something in mind, pipsqueak?”

Blue pulled back and looked at him, grinning as he wiped the tears away.

 

Alone in his room, Paps rolled a honey bottle between his hands, prepared for another sleepless night. Sleep had never come easy to him, but it had been especially difficult after returning from Underfell. It seemed like every time he closed his sockets and started to finally fall asleep, the memory of hands on his ankles and wrists returned, and that voice—

_(“Tha’s right, sweet-piece. Struggle for me. Yeah, jus’ like that.”)_

—would force him to full wakefulness, shivering in the dark. Alone and afraid on his bare mattress. He couldn’t even go to Muffet’s like he used to, and he didn’t want to burden Blue, especially not with something like his. He didn’t deserve that, and Paps didn’t want Blue to start looking at him with pity. Paps was the elder brother, after all; he was supposed to be strong for his little bro. ~~Even if the self-imposed pressure made his ribcage feel like it was going to cave in. Even if he knew he wasn’t up to the task, simply wasn’t strong enough emotionally or physically. Even if Blue deserved so much better than him~~.

He stuck the honey spout in his mouth and tilted his head back, allowing the sweet fluid to pool on his conjured tongue. He squeezed the bottle lightly, coaxing more from the spout—only for the door to bang open. “Surprise, Papy!”

Out of shock, his hand tightened on the bottle and honey flooded his mouth, choking him. He bent forward, coughing and getting the sticky substance all over his hands and mandible. In the doorway, Blue giggled, while Edge just sighed heavily. “Are you drinking honey in here? You’re going to attract insects—and we _just_ cleaned this place.”

Swallowing down the mix of magic and honey, Paps stared at them as they drug a mattress—was that from the spare room?—through the door and set it beside his. “uh,” he said, blinking stupidly. He looked between them and the mattress, trying to figure out what was going on while Edge set about covering it in a fresh set of sheets and laying out a blanket. “what’re you two doing?”

“After Edge was done reading my bedtime story, I asked if he wanted to stay for a sleep-over—but it didn’t seem fair to keep him all to myself. So we’re all going to sleep in here!”

Paps looked between them. “…uh. okay.”

Blue paused. “That’s alright with you, isn’t it, Papy?”

He blinked and shook himself. “yeah, sure. um…actually.” He smiled slightly. “that might be nice.” He wouldn’t have to be alone, he realized, and the thought warmed his soul. “just, uh, lemme get cleaned up a bit, huh?” He gestured to the honey on his hands and face.

Edge waved him off. “Of course—before you go, though, do you have any sleepwear I can borrow? I didn’t come prepared to stay the night.”

Smirking, Paps said, “ah, edgelord. just strip down to your boxers. no one will mind.” He winked, but Edge crossed his arms and glared. Throwing up his hands, Paps said, “fine, fine. top drawer.”

“Thank you,” Edge said pointedly, but that almost-smile had crept back onto his face, and Paps’ soul felt warm. That warmth only increased when he got back to his room to find Edge in a pair of his sweatpants and a loose undershirt. His soul clenched, still delighted to see the other skeleton wearing his clothes.

Blue had bedded down on the spare mattress, and one of them made up Paps’ mattress while he was gone. Edge sat beside Blue, in the middle of both mattresses, and the two of them were talking quietly. Paps slipped in beside Edge and asked, “so what’d i miss?”

“Apparently it’s traditional to play ‘truth or dare’ on occasions like these, but I refuse.”

“But Edge!” Blue said, squirming in the blanket nest, “It’s fun!”

“No,” Edge said, jumping a little when Paps set a hand on his shoulder.

“maybe next time, bro,” Paps said, “the edgelord needs his beauty rest.”

Edge glared, probably looking for the mockery in that statement, but Paps just smiled at him placidly—genuinely pleased to have him here. Slowly, Edge’s shoulders relaxed, and he nodded just slightly, acknowledging the joy he read in Paps’ eyelights. Clearing his throat, he looked back at Blue and said, “Yes. Maybe next time—if there is a next time.”

Blue beamed and curled up, ready to sleep. Edge hesitated for a moment, apparently still a little unsure of himself. Then he lay down as well, shifting a little to get comfortable. Mindful of Edge’s apparent skittishness, Paps settled beside him carefully, trying to maintain some comfortable space between them. It was suddenly very important to him that Edge know Paps wasn’t trying to take advantage of their proximity. He was really just grateful to have him—to have _them_ —here. He didn’t want to scare Edge away by pushing too far too fast.

So he was pleasantly surprised when Edge reached out and clasped his hand. The tension left his shoulders, and Paps squeezed his phalanges, sockets drifting shut as he finally, _finally_ fell into a deep sleep. And if he woke in the middle of the night, soul hammering at the memories plaguing him, it was easy enough to drift back to sleep, comforted by a pair of red eyelights and a set of gentle hands.

“you’re okay, swapshit,” a gruff voice murmured against his acoustic meatus, “you’re okay. i’ve got you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HEY LOOK AT THAT I'M BACK!
> 
> (Also, you can all thank @sesurescue for pushing for this chapter. I probably wouldn't have gotten it out until next week if not for them.)


	10. Ashes, ashes...

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Razz allows himself a moment of peace.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Detailed trigger warning in the end notes does contain _spoilers_. Please read if you are prone to any kind of anxiety or if any of these triggers give you pause. I do mean that the detailed warning contains spoilers, though, particularly for the end of the chapter. I want everyone to be prepared going in if they need the preparation, but I also want anyone who wants to avoid spoilers to be able to do so.
> 
> (Spoiler-free) Trigger warning: implied abuse, controlling behavior, skeletons in peril, graphic injuries, fire.

Sans followed Razz down the basement steps, and while a part of him was still angry with Razz—outraged at his behavior, his disregard for his brother, his thoughtless cruelty—he couldn’t forget their chess game. Watching the cold, grumpy skeleton smile and lean forward eagerly, eyelights bright and engaged, had been too much for Sans. It reminded him too much of Papyrus: how he would enthuse over the latest puzzle book, his nearly child-like excitement and joy over life’s small pleasures. It was…endearing, and soon enough, he’d found his plastered-on smile melting into something more genuine.

Only then did he start noticing little things—the way Razz’s scarred socket squinted a bit, as if the old wound still hurt. And he seemed to be favoring one arm, flinching just slightly when he knocked it against the table. His fingers, too, were stiff and clumsy as he handled the chess pieces. Sans hadn’t dared to perform a check—Razz would feel it, and then Sans would have to explain himself—but he’d grown increasingly sure that Razz was injured. And doing a damn good job of hiding it. Sans might not have even noticed, if they’d been playing anything other than chess.

So while Red had been enraged over Razz’s apparent callousness, Sans’ anger was tempered by that newly fostered sympathy—furthered by Razz’s obvious confusion when Blue kicked him out. Sans might not like the way Razz treated Slim—he hated it, really, and if he thought on it too deeply, he’d lose that newfound sympathy—but for the first time, he could see that Slim wasn’t the only one suffering. Razz just hid it better.

At the base of the basement steps, Razz glared up at Sans, posture stiff and defensive. “Explain,” he demanded.

Sans crossed his arms and looked down at him, wondering what had shaped Razz into the monster he saw before him. A monster that didn’t even realize it was cruel to dismiss his brother’s panic attack as nothing but a ‘snit’. “you don’t see how you might’ve, i dunno, hurt someone’s feelings?” he wheedled, trying to get Razz to figure it out for himself. It was the same kind of gentle prodding he’d use when Papyrus said or did something to unintentionally offend another monster. He’d gotten better about it as he’d grown older, but he used to have trouble with it when he was a babybones. It hadn’t earned him any friends, and that had only exacerbated the problem in the long run.

Razz just sneered. “Feelings? I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

Sans was, thankfully, a very patient skeleton. “really? you don’t think that what you said about slim might’ve been, uh, a little insensitive?”

At first, Razz cocked his head and squinted his sockets, confused. Then he shook his head, clearing his thoughts. “He wasn’t even there, and he’s not as sensitive as you think—he doesn’t need your coddling.”

A very, very patient skeleton. Sighing, he scrubbed a hand over his face. “okay, okay. let’s put that aside for a minute—“ Though they would definitely be coming back to it. “—and talk about red, huh? you don’t think that you might’ve gone a bit too far?”

Razz snickered, smirking proudly. “The whelp? Oh, come now, don’t pretend you didn’t enjoy that just as much as I did.”

Sans opened his mouth, then shut it and sighed heavily. His friendship with Red was more complicated than mere antagonism. They’d spent a week together in Underfell—working on the machine, talking science, getting on Edge’s nerves, getting on each other’s nerves. They were friends, but seeing Red—rude and crude and just so _Fell_ —court his brother had stretched that friendship thin. Now wasn’t the time to get into that, though, and Razz wasn’t the person to discuss it with, either.

So he tilted his head back, trying to find the right combination of words to get through Razz’s thick skull (heh). “look, kiddo—“

“Stop calling me that!” Razz snapped, taking a step forward and drawing himself up, “I am the _Captain_ of the Royal Guard and I demand that you show me the proper respect.”

Sans was a patient skeleton. But not that patient. “yeah?” he asked, looking him up and down, “well guess what? where i come from, respect isn’t something you can demand from someone, and it ain’t about your title. if you want to be respected, then you gotta treat other people with respect too—it’s a two-way street, _kiddo_.”

Chin lifted, Razz narrowed his sockets. “Where I come from, respect is earned in dust-shed and battle prowess. And I have more than earned my position.”

Sans faltered, put off-balance by the sudden reminder of the Fell-verses’ harshness. He surveyed Razz again, reminding himself of the things he’d observed during their chess game. Razz’s injuries. His excitement. Those flashes that were so _Papyrus_ that Sans couldn’t help but grin indulgently. Keeping all those things in mind, he asked, “yeah? that all that matter in that hell-verse you got?”

Sneering, Razz asked, “What else is there? Money and prestige are meaningless if you can’t protect yourself or your assets.” Even after everything he’d seen in Underfell—which was, admittedly, very little—and after all that he’d observed, simply watching their Fell-verse counterparts, Sans still hadn’t been prepared for that. It rocked him, and for a few moments, he could only stare at Razz with pity. Thinking, perhaps, that Sans was awestruck by his proclamation, Razz sneered, looking him over. “Not that a monster like you could possibly understand.”

With that, he spun on his heel and marched over to the machine, booting it up. Shaking his head to clear it, Sans followed him down the stairs. “what about kindness?” he asked, thinking of his time with Edge and Red. Sure, they were rough, but he’d been able to see almost immediately that they cared for each other, looked after each other. “even in a fell-verse—“

But Razz scoffed. “Kindess?” he asked. He turned to face Sans while he waited for the machine. “Kindness is weakness,” he said, and the words sounded practiced. As if he’d heard it said—or said it himself—over and over again until it was nearly second nature. Sans didn’t even know how to respond, and something shifted in Razz’s expression. He drew in on himself, his sneer replaced with a cold mask. “It was a mistake, coming here,” he said, almost to himself. Turning back to the machine, hands clasped behind his back, he added, “I should have known.”

Slowly, Sans stepped forward, one hand raised. Reaching for him. “it’s not a—“ Stars, how did he even begin to explain this? “razz. kindness isn’t _weakness_.”

Razz glanced back at him once, rocking on his heels. Then he turned back to the machine and lifted his chin, exhaling hard. “A luxury, then,” he conceded, “And a costly one at that. Not one that I or my brother can afford.” Briefly, his chin dipped and his fingers twitched. Then he got control of himself again. “You’re Tale-verse, Judge; you can’t understand, but this is how things are. How they have to be.”

Finally, the machine finished booting up, and Razz prepared to step inside, but Sans couldn’t let him go. Not now. Not after that. “hey, kid—uh, cap’n?” Razz paused and turned to him, brow-bone raised expectantly. Rubbing the back of his neck, Sans said, “everyone needs a little kindness sometime. If you ever wanna, um, _indulge_ a bit? you’d be welcome in undertale. anytime.” Razz’s sockets narrowed in suspicion, but Sans smirked and crossed his arms, trying to match Razz’s cocky attitude. It didn’t suit him, but arrogance was something Razz could understand and accept. Altruism was not. “i wouldn’t mind kicking your ass at chess again.”

Razz actually laughed, the sound short and sharp—much like the skeleton himself. “You wish, Judge.” As he stepped into the machine, though, he said over his shoulder, “I’ll consider it.”

Then he was gone, and Sans was alone…for all of two seconds. The door opened and Papyrus started down the stairs, talking loudly and happily. It took Sans a few moments to realize that he wasn’t talking to him but to Red, currently cradled in Papyrus’ arms. “—MAKE HOT CHOCOLATE, IF YOU’D LIKE.” Then, seeing Sans, he pulled up short, and while he continued to smile broadly, there was something decidedly challenging in his posture and expression. “BROTHER! HOW DID THINGS GO WITH RAZZ?”

Red shifted so he could meet Sans’ stare. Sans smiled forcefully at him, but Red narrowed his sockets and opened his mouth. Sans spoke before he was given the chance, though. “fine, bro. i, uh, i hope you don’t mind, but i invited him over to play chess sometime.”

Red sputtered in protest, but Papyrus’s smile only grew broader and more genuine. “THAT’S WONDERFUL, BROTHER!”

“the fuck are ya talking about? _wonderful_? that jackass—“ Papyrus just covered his mouth, still smiling broadly.

“AS IT HAPPENS, I TOO INVITED ONE OF OUR FRIENDS OVER!” Getting the message, Red settled down and stopped trying to growl past the hand over his mouth. Papyrus patted his head gently. “CHERRY IS GOING TO JOIN ME FOR A BEDTIME STORY.”

Sans blinked, then stared hard at Red, hoping he could feel his sins crawling on his back. From the subtle middle finger it earned him, Sans was fairly certain he could. “yeah? he wants me to read to him too?”

“NO, BROTHER, YOU DON’T UNDERSTAND. RED IS GOING TO BE READING TO ME—OR PERHAPS I’LL BE READING TO HIM. WE’LL SEE HOW IT GOES.” Red choked a little, starting to cough. Clearly, even if Papyrus didn’t intend it that way, Red’s mind wasn’t on books.

Sans’ brotherly instincts came immediately to the fore. “yeah?” he asked, looking between the two of them, not sure how to respond. He wanted to forbid it outright, but he knew that would only drive a wedge between him and both of them—and only bring the two of them closer. He’d hoped to discourage the whole thing just by hovering awkwardly on their not-dates. That had been less than effective, and he could tell it was starting to grate on his brother, not to mention Red.

Stars above, he knew that he was only making things worse, he knew he needed to step back and let his brother live his life, but—

 _(“bro, why didn’t you_ tell _me?” His tall, proud brother folded in on himself, hugging his arms around his ribcage as if afraid it would break apart if he let go._

_Leaning close to catch his uncharacteristically soft words. “I-I don’t know. I was…ashamed. And-and I thought you’d be angry with me.”_

_Hugging him, holding him tight. “pap. i’d never be angry with you over something like this. it ain’t yer fault.” His accent starting to bleed into his speech as he silently promised himself he wouldn’t allow his brother to be hurt like that ever again.)_

—he couldn’t help but worry. He didn’t want to see Papyrus hurt—ever—and while he liked Red, he fell far short of the kind of monster Sans would want his brother to date. ~~Never mind that he couldn’t think of any monsters that could meet his rigid standards~~. Still, he forced an enthusiastic smile, knowing that he had no real choice in the matter. He just wanted to be close by, in case he was needed to pick up the pieces. “sounds good, bro.”

A little tension eased out of Papyrus’ shoulders, and Sans set the machine for their own universe, mind racing. Trying to remind himself that Red was a decent guy, Fell-verse or not. And he made Papyrus happy. Never mind that he’d thought the same of Muffet. ~~Stars above, he was supposed to be a fucking Judge—how could he have been so damn _blind_? ~~ More than anything, Sans just wanted his brother to be happy. It had seemed like such an easy thing, when they were younger—a puzzle, a new book, a stupid joke. When had everything become so complicated?

When they got back to the house, Papyrus swept Red into the kitchen, never allowing Sans even a moment to corner the other monster. He made hot chocolate for all of them, then he ushered Red upstairs, babbling excitedly the entire time. Walking under his own power now, Red stared up at him, his sharp grin broad and open with honest delight. They looked so happy together, and Sans wished he could trust it, he really did, but watching them, it felt like a pit had opened in his lower abdomen and dread weighed down his soul.

Standing there, watching them disappear into Papyrus’ room, it was Razz’s words that unexpectedly came back to him. _(“he doesn’t need your coddling.”)_

But Razz was hardly the brother Sans aspired to be. He followed them up the stairs and stood vigil outside his brother’s door, listening to the steady cadence of Red’s voice as he read from one of Papyrus’ books. He ignored how wrong, how _dirty_ he felt, eavesdropping on them. He wanted to be there if Papyrus needed him. Last time, he’d failed, and Papyrus had been hurt. He wouldn’t fail him again this time, no matter what.

 

Razz tried to forget about the conversation he’d had with Sans, particularly the invitation he’d extended. He tried to tell himself that he didn’t need the softer skeleton or his softer ‘verse. Until one day, not quite a month later, he realized that he did.

There was no specific cause. No particular event that drove him to kick the sole of his brother’s shoe—overhanging the couch’s armrest—and snap, “I’ll be in Undertale. If anything changes— _anything_ —then call me.” The dog just stared blankly up at him, earbuds stuffed into his earholes as he reclined on the couch. Rolling his eyelights, Razz yanked one earbud free before repeating himself with a snarl, then he stalked out of the house and down to the machine.

No, nothing specific drove him to it. Rather, it was a collection of things. His lack of progress finding the rebels, the sudden influx of rebel coinage—each coin marked with Alphys’ crossed swords—and the queen’s growing impatience. She’d summoned him to her office four times in just as many days, and every time, he’d come away from the encounter with bruises on his bones. His punching bag wasn’t an appealing target for his frustration, nor were the training dummies, and training was beginning to feel like a pointless mockery. For all his physical and magical prowess, he still couldn’t please his queen, couldn’t best his former friend-turned-traitor, couldn’t do _anything_.

Normally, he’d have continued on in silence, just growing more and more ~~self-destructive~~ frustrated, but he kept thinking of Rus and Sans. Of Rus’ genuine smiles and his honest, welcoming words. Of Sans’ question and his invitation. _(“everyone needs a little kindness sometime.”)_ Razz needed, and he found himself standing outside their door, hand raised to knock. Sure that neither of them had actually meant it. Sure that he would be turned away as soon as they saw him. ~~He hoped, in a way, that they would. Then he could simply go back to his own universe, knowing that there were no better alternatives~~.

But when Rus answered the door, he smiled honestly and ushered him inside, calling for his brother and asking Razz if he wanted something to drink or to eat and generally behaving as if his visit was as welcome as it was unexpected. Sans strolled lazily down the stairs, hands in his pockets, and greeted him casually, but there was none of the forced civility Razz had expected. They wanted him here. They were happy he was here. His soul seized, pushing him toward tears. He fought them back and managed a smirk, covering gratitude with arrogance. “Do you have a chessboard, Judge?” he asked, chin lifted in challenge.

“nah,” Sans said, leaning against the bannister, “we’ll have to improvise. lucky you, i teach a masterclass on improv.” He winked. “every thursday at the librarby, if you’re ever looking to expand your horizons.”

Rus rolled his eyelights, arms crossed. “HONESTLY, BROTHER. A PUN? ALREADY? AND PAIRED WITH A LIE! WE VERY MUCH DO HAVE A CHESSBOARD, RAZZBERRY. JUST A MOMENT!”

Then Rus was racing up the stairs, and Sans was escorting him to the table. Their kindness—their sweetness—was a balm, and Razz soon found himself engrossed in the game, a mug of hot chocolate at his fingertips. He complained about it, said it was too sweet, that he didn’t want it…but in the end, he drank two mugs’ worth.

Both brothers accompanied him to the machine at the end of the day, and when Rus invited him to return, he actually found himself smiling before he buried the response and returned a formal nod. “I’ll think about it,” he said sharply, waiting for the machine to finish booting up. He felt warm and good, and when the portal opened, he realized with a start that he didn’t want to go back home.

In that moment, standing before the machine, he knew he’d made a mistake. He never should have come here. Weeks prior, he’d told Sans that kindness was not a luxury he could afford and it was no less true now. Such things were not for him. He wasn’t allowed. It would make him soft, make him weak, and in the end, it would cost him too dearly. This, he decided even as he bid them farewell, would be the end of it. He’d allowed himself a day, a moment, of peace. But no more. He’d have the dog dismantle the machine if necessary, but he— _they_ would have to cut ties with the others. The peace they offered was too tempting and, ultimately, too painful.

Razz stepped through the portal, his soul heavy, only to be met by a wall of heat and smoke. He stumbled back into the Tale-verse brothers’ basement, coughing and staring wide-eyed at the portal. “RAZZBERRY?”

Razz might have explained, but he thought suddenly of his brother. Drunk or drugged or just asleep, earbuds stuffed into his earholes—dead to the world. He ripped his cape free of the epaulets that held it in place and tore a strip from the hem, tying it around his face to shield his mouth and nose from at least some of the smoke. “hey, razz? buddy, what’s goin’—“ But Razz was already darting back through the portal, braced this time for the heat.

He was grateful for his short stature all at once, as it made keeping under the clouds of smoke much easier. He started toward the stairs, his sockets already watering as the smoke stung his eyelights. His mouth was dry and the heat was already starting to bake his bones. Above him, the floorboards creaked, and he could see fire flickering between the seams in the floor. He had to find his brother.

He raced up the stairs and out into the open, gulping down the frigid air. Snow had melted all around the house, pulling away from the flames. He searched the street, but saw no sign of Slim. Strangely, he didn’t see any guards or townspeople either, but he filed that fact away for another time. The door was already kicked in—another fact to consider more deeply later—and he stepped over it, searching the living room through the heavy smoke. His brother wasn’t asleep on the couch, so that meant he either wasn’t here or he was upstairs in his room. Slim only ever really lingered on the couch or in his bedroom. Razz only needed to check upstairs, then he could be sure his brother was safe— ~~he wasn’t going to think about the possibility of finding a burnt hoodie and a coating of dust he wasn’t he wasn’t he wasn’t~~ —

The kitchen door was open, and he could see that the room was already engulfed in flames. Fire was starting to creep from the kitchen and into the living room, so he grabbed the doorknob—ignoring the way it seared his hand—and slammed it shut. The other side of the living room was already on fire, the carpet and curtains burning away and flames licking at the ceiling, but he needed to give himself the best possible chance for escape. Especially if he was going to be lugging his brother out.

The floorboards protested as he crossed the room, embers dripping from the ceiling and causing the carpet to smolder and smoke. The entirety of the upper floor was completely obscured by smoke, and Razz’s throat clenched, already sore from smoke inhalation. His armor was growing hotter by the minute, the metal starting to sear his bones, and every instinct he possessed urged him to turn tail and _run_. Still, he started up the stairs, sockets watering and forearm pressed protectively against his mouth, as if he could filter out the smoke that way. He activated his magic, using it to repress his pain.

If his brother died because of Razz’s cowardice, his selfishness, his negligence, then Razz would never forgive himself.

The fourth stair broke under his heel. For a few agonizing moments, his leg was caught between the boards. Fire licked at his leg from below—the storage space under the stairs was alight as well. For an absurd moment, he cursed himself, cursed the fact he hadn’t even thought to check. Then the rest of the stairway fell away, as well as the flooring underneath. He landed in the basement with an aborted scream, one leg crumpling under him. Then flaming boards fell on top of him, crushing him beneath their weight.

He struggled, tried to pull himself out, tried to pull himself free, but he couldn’t find any leverage. Lack of oxygen made him dizzy, and his grip on the pain suppressing magic started to slip, allowing him to feel every burn, every break, every scrape and bruise and heat fracture. He coughed, unable to get enough air into his soul. He was starting to fade. Fire had no Intent to lower his HP, but the physical damage was sapping his magic reserves, and his soul was growing slow and sluggish.

Head spinning, his whole body burning, he was barely conscious as strong hands pushed away the burning boards and lifted him up. “my brother,” he barely managed, his voice a weak croak. Then true unconsciousness took him, and he knew no more.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Detailed trigger warning, contains spoilers for this chapter and future chapters**
> 
>  
> 
> Implied abuse of Tale-verse Papyrus/implied abusive Muffyrus.
> 
> Sans' overprotectiveness begins to creep into being controlling. (If this is off-putting to you, please note that this is part of his character arc, and is a low point for him. He's going to get better, I swear.)
> 
> Implied physical abuse of Swapfell Sans by his queen. 
> 
> Most importantly, this chapter ends on a cliffhanger with the implication that Slim may or may not be dead, and Razz critically injured. If anyone has any kind of PTSD or anxiety related to house fires, please consider skipping this last section. 
> 
> **Spoilers for future chapters:** Slim is not dead. He's not fine either, but he's not dead. I do not do Major Character Death. You can be assured of that.


	11. ...we all fall down

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Actions speak louder than words, and more definitively.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger warning: unhappy familial relationships, references to abuse, violence, blood, injuries, but nothing too graphic.

Slim cracked open a socket when Razz kicked his foot. “I’ll be in Undertale. If anything changes— _anything_ —then call me.” He just stared, not really willing to believe his ears—until Razz yanked the earbuds from his earholes and repeated his orders. Slim nodded, but Razz was already stalking away. Slim sat up, staring after him. He didn’t even flinch when the door slammed shut.

Razz was…taking a break? Willingly? He closed his sockets and let out a slow breath, the relief almost painful. His chest unknotted and his soul _ached_. Watching Razz tear himself apart over the past month— ~~month? He’d been watching his brother slowly self-destruct for _years_ , what the fuck was he talking about?~~ _—_ had been torture. He’d need to thank Rus and Sans next time he saw them. He had no idea what they’d done to pry his brother out of this universe, nor did he much care. He was just so grateful.

He’d be lying if he were to claim his relief was purely altruistic, though. Razz had been…difficult to live with, this past month. And he had never been an easy monster to get along with. Slim gripped his scarred wrist through his jacket sleeve. He’d been spending more and more time with Muffet ~~to escape his brother’s projected rage~~ , which had only made things worse. He pulled his arms into his chest, feeling that tight knot of anxiety return.

Maybe things would be better when Razz got home. Maybe things would go back to the way they used to be, years ago.

His fingers tightened around his ulna and radius, threatening to break the brittle bones. Yeah. And maybe they’d find another human and break the barrier. Maybe they’d conquer the surface. Maybe Razz would start treating him like a subordinate again, rather than a dog. ~~Slim had long since given up on being treated like a brother~~.

He flopped back onto the couch and stared at the ceiling. Stuffing one earbud back into his acoustic meatus, he allowed the heavy bass to echo through his skull. It vibrated the bone, like the interior of his skull was being massaged. His fingers twitched, wishing Muffet would break down and let him have a couple of her little white pills unsupervised. Maybe he’d go visit her later. As soon as he worked up the motivation to move his legs. His sockets drifted shut, and he turned up the music, allowing it to carry him away.

He wasn’t surprised that he fell asleep. Wasn’t even surprised to wake to silence—the playlist had run out. He was, however, surprised to hear a firm knock on the door. He sat up, scratching the underside of his mandible. Wasn’t Muffet. She would have sent a text or sent a spiderling to fetch him. Wasn’t one of the guard dogs—too steady, and there were no accompanying barks. Pushing himself up off the couch, Slim rolled his head and shoulders, shivering pleasantly when his bones popped.

Leaning on the doorframe, he pushed the door open and looked down at the monster outside, his features set in a neutral mask. The Migosp on the other side of the door—a royal messenger, it looked like—flinched back from him, then forced himself to straighten, though he couldn’t hope to match Slim’s height. “I have a message for the Captain. It’s urgent.”

Slim raised a brow-bone, then dipped a hand into his pocket and pulled out a sucker. He unwrapped it slowly and popped it into his mouth. “is it?” he asked, stick between his teeth.

The messenger shifted on his feet and his shoulders pulled in defensively before he lifted his chin and said, “I don’t think that’s for you to decide, is it?”

Slim was not impressed. Every minor noble and upper-level staff member at the palace assumed they could bully him into obedience. Not one of them had succeeded yet. “captain’s busy,” he rumbled, moving to pull the door shut.

The messenger’s eyes went wide and he stuck his foot in the doorway, pulling on the door. “Hey! You can’t just—“

Slim snatched him up by the front of his livery and held him at eye level, allowing the smaller monster to get a good look at his hollow sockets. “if it was that important, the queen would call him directly, you little pissant. either give me the message or take your self-important act to someone that has time for your bullshit.”

The Migosp cowered in his grip, and thrust a sealed envelope toward him. He eyed it, raising a brow-bone when he noticed the seal was broken. He gave the Migosp a disbelieving look. Was he really that stupid? “you should be glad i’m the one that answered,” he observed idly, dropping the messenger on his ass. “interfering with a summons from the queen?” He shook his head, _tsk_ ing as he pulled the letter out of the envelope. “that’s treason.” There was nothing particularly alarming inside—just a basic, ‘get your ass over here’, but in prettier language.

The monster’s eyes went wide. “No—please, I didn’t know. It wasn’t. I didn’t think— _Please_.”

Slim surveyed him casually, then stepped outside and slammed the door shut behind him. It could be a trap, but what kind of idiot tried to set a trap for the Captain of the Guard in the Queen’s Judgment Hall? It was more likely a genuine summons from the queen. It wasn’t her handwriting, but she rarely took the time to send personal notes. A quick word to a scribe and the message would be sent. As he’d already said, if the matter was urgent, she’d have called Razz directly.

He studied the note, studied the Migosp shaking on the ground in front of him. He toed the messenger with the side of his boot, shaking his head when he flinched away. “how the hell did you last five minutes in the palace?” he demanded, then dismissed the monster from his mind and started down the road.

Behind him, the Migosp sat up. “Y-you’re letting me go?”

Slim didn’t even respond. The other monster wasn’t his problem, wasn’t his concern—and he didn’t care half so much about treason as Razz did. He dug a hand into his pocket, reaching for his phone, only to come up empty. Shit. Did he leave it at the house? Or maybe with Muffet? He sighed and stuffed his hands into his pockets. It didn’t really matter either way. It wasn’t urgent, and he’d rather not pull Razz back into Swapfell if he was enjoying himself in Undertale. Yeah, it’d get him yelled at later, and he’d have to face the queen alone, but he could always use the broken seal as an excuse. Hmph. Yeah. It wouldn’t get him out of trouble completely, but it was just logical enough to earn him a bit of Mercy from one or both. He didn’t call Razz because he thought it might be a trap.

With all of that sorted out, he teleported directly to the castle’s steps. The guards on duty saluted as he went past, which earned a raised brow-bone. They had to be new. Everyone in the guard knew he was the Queen’s dog. He wasn’t worthy of that kind of respect. Nevertheless, he returned the salute and continued up the steps.

He’d been a little on edge as he entered, put off by the guards’ behavior and the broken seal, but he relaxed as he made his way through the castle. Everything was as it should be. Guards were stationed at regular intervals. A few higher-level servants passed him by, busy playing fetch-and-carry for the nobility or otherwise occupied. Once, a sweet-piece stepped around him, ducking his head and offering a sweet smile as he went.

Things quieted down as he got closer to the Hall, though. This part of the castle was mostly unused. The queen didn’t bother to play at justice anymore. Her word was law, and she was both judge and executioner. She didn’t need a Hall for that and didn’t need the reminder that, once upon a time, an ideal like Justice had actually held some importance in her kingdom. Finding out that the other older brothers were all Judges had certainly come as a shock to Slim. Until he spoke to Red, at least. Sans and Paps were the real Judges, he’d been assured. Slim and Red were both their ruler’s dogs. Red just had a prettier title.

That conversation had been the first bit of kinship he’d found with their counterparts, and even if it was somewhat bittersweet, he still treasured it.

Pushing open the door to the Judgment Hall, he leapt to the side, dodging the sword strike aimed at his torso. He teleported past his assailant and into the Hall proper, summoning a pair of blasters as he reappeared in the Judge’s place. Alphys turned from the door, sword in hand. Her missing hand—cut off in her last confrontation with Razz—had been replaced with a blade. Slouching, Slim observed coolly, “i’d have gone for the hook. really commit to the pirate look.”

She stalked across the hall, stopping short when one of his blasters fired on her. She dodged, glaring. “Where’s your brother, dog?” He shrugged, stuffing his hands into his pockets. “Tell me, damn you!” She barreled forward, and when he summoned a wall of bones, she ran straight through them, choosing to take the small hit to her HP. Even with his KR, he could only whittle away at her HP, and she knew it. Just before she reached him, he teleported again, then grabbed her soul and slammed her into the wall. The stonework crumbled, the mortar long since eaten away by age and ivy.

“if you’re not careful,” he cautioned, “you’re gonna bring down the house.”

She shook it off, starting to stalk toward him again. “You can’t win this, Papyrus. You may be fast, but you can’t dodge forever, and your stamina’s shit. I can outlast you any day—and I only have to get lucky _once_. Give up now, and maybe I’ll be Merciful.”

He shifted the sucker in his mouth, biting into it. She was right, of course. But—he threw a series of bones at her, frowning when she dodged every one of them. “you seem pretty sure i’m gonna stick around, waiting for you to get lucky.”

She growled, one hand tightening around her sword. Hadn’t thought of that, apparently. Erecting a wall of bones around her—which she immediately started hacking away at—he considered her. It didn’t take a genius to figure out what she’d done or what she was planning to do. Razz couldn’t teleport, and the ambush would have caught him off guard. Slim had too much faith in his brother’s abilities to really believe it would have killed him, but Alphys was not a monster to trifle with. It certainly would have been messy either way. He couldn’t quite figure out how she’d gotten into the castle, though, or why she felt bold enough to try to ambush Razz in the heart of the queen’s palace—

The queen. His sockets went wide, and before Alphys could break through the bone palisade, he teleported directly to the throne room. Everything became clear in that moment. Napstaton NEO—when had Undyne even had the time to complete that upgrade? It had been nothing more than a prototype last he knew—was blasting the queen with a sonic cannon, while guardsmen pelted her with mana-constructs. Guardsmen or rebels disguised as guards, he couldn’t tell which. Razz had always wondered where the guards’ loyalty lay.

No time to question it now. Slim summoned a blaster and started charging it. Toriel saw him and smirked, no doubt assuming Razz was at his side and ready to assist her. Not that she appeared to need the assistance. Fire hovered over her fingers and crowned her head. A quick flick of her fingers, and the guardsmen were driven back, fire licking at their armor. Napstaton rushed forward, immune to the flames. Another sonic blast knocked her back and her fire flickered. She looked to Papyrus, snarling. “What are you waiting for, dog? Kill them!”

Maybe he would have, if he didn’t think they had a shot at winning. He certainly would have if Razz had been at his side. In that moment, though, all he could think of was his brother—his _baby_ brother. Bones cracked and bleeding mana. Working so hard to impress a woman that would only offer faint praise for his best efforts and beatings when even that was not enough. Allowing her caustic rhetoric to sink its claws into his soul and strip away the best parts of himself.

She really shouldn’t have been shocked when the blaster’s beam hit her square in the chest. Or when a second and a third joined the first, all of them swooping down to snap and bite, tearing at fur and flesh. As with Alphys, his KR simply wasn’t potent enough to make his attacks very effective against a high HP opponent—but he was well versed in supporting those that could make a difference. Napstaton stalled briefly, but he recovered fast, focusing his attacks while the queen was harried and harassed by the blasters.

Toriel screamed in rage, and a column of fire took shape around her. “get down!” Slim ordered, raising his voice to be heard above the fire’s roar. He ducked behind a pillar, hunching low to the ground as orbs of fire burst from the column. One of the guardsmen hadn’t been fast enough, and they went down with a scream. Their armor clattered to the ground, dust spilling from the metal shell. To their credit, the others didn’t even flinch. True guardsmen, then—Alphys’ civilian rebels were not so well trained. Two of the blasters disintegrated in the fire as well, while the other managed to dodge. Slim felt the pull on his soul as the magic sunk into the blasters dissipated. He’d need a moment to catch his breath before he could summon more.

The fire died down and Napstaton was back on his feet, again using his sonic weapons to disorient Toriel. Gears and stars and other mana constructs flew through the air, biting into Toriel’s flesh. She roared in response, and Slim peered around the pillar, jerking his control hand to call up a bone construct. It speared through her flesh, and blood dripped down the construct’s sides, pooling below. It sapped at her HP and the physical damage would have been devastating for a creature without magic. Within seconds, though, his construct dissipated and her magic rushed to the injury, staunching the flow of blood and sealing the injury. In conjunction with some pain suppressing magic, the blow hardly fazed her.

It bought time, though. Time for the guardsmen to rally and time for Slim’s remaining blaster to charge its mouth beam. Time, too, for Alphys to appear. She swept into the room, sword summoned and bladed prosthetic at the ready. Meeting her eye, Slim raised his hand and directed his blaster to fire on Toriel. Alphys’ eye widened, but only for a moment. She gave him a tight nod, then she dashed forward, swords flashing.

It was a lot like playing support for Razz. He’d almost forgotten that Alphys had been the one to train him. Their styles were so similar, offering support was shockingly easy for him. And he’d be lying if he were to say that harrying Toriel wasn’t immensely gratifying after spending so many years under her thumb. She tried to swat at his blasters or dodge his bones, only to leave herself open to attack from Alphys. And if she tried to ignore him and go for Alphys or Napstaton, then he drew on his magic and barraged her with bones and Gaster blasters.

They were wearing her down, slowly but surely, and with all of them working together, the queen eventually began to slow. Blood stained her maw; she’d lost a few teeth to one of Slim’s blasters. Deep purple glinted amongst her white fur, marking places where the physical damage was so severe her magic had to hold her flesh together. Her fireballs had shrunk drastically in size, and she was breathing hard.

Napstaton was in bad shape too—his wings had been torn away, and half his face was sparking, the wiring exposed. Alphys was soaked in sweat, but she looked ready to keep fighting for as long as necessary to finish what she’d started years ago. Slim didn’t doubt that she’d finish it today, though he wasn’t entirely sure who would come out on top. Nor did he much care at this point.

It was time for him to go. No matter who won today, he and Razz only had one option left to them—they had to leave Swapfell. Alphys was not the type to forgive and forget, and neither was Toriel. They’d burned too many bridges; Swapfell simply wasn’t safe for them anymore. So, as soon as a troop of fresh guardsmen arrived to provide backup, Slim slipped out the door. He attempted a teleport, but his magic was sapped. He’d have to risk a ride with the Riverperson, it seemed. He needed to get back to Snowdin, maybe take a detour through Hotland and pick up some explosives. He could set up a bomb in the basement to take out the machine after he was safely in one of the other ‘verses, cut ties with Swapfell permanently—and ensure that no one from this ‘verse could discover the machine and come through to harass the Tale-verse skeletons.

As he’d expected, smaller fights were breaking out between guards as the loyalists went up against the rebels. Dust and blood littered the hallways. Empty clothes—armor, servants’ livery, and nobles’ designer dresses and slacks—were kicked to the side. Up ahead, a knot of guardsmen fought. Chunks of stonework fell as a particularly powerful ray of mana struck the wall. Slim ducked down a side passage, taking the servant’s stairwell—only to run into a group of cowering sweet-pieces at the bottom.

He faltered, not fully sure what to say or do with them. The ‘pieces backed away and stared up at him with wide eyes. One of the bolder sweet-pieces stepped forward and lifted his chin, hands shaking as he lowered his arms to his sides. Offering himself up. Slim took a step back, shaking his head and holding up his hands, as if he wanted to ward them off. He opened his mouth and tried to tell them to hide, tried to say he wasn’t going to hurt them, but nothing came out of his mouth.

The door at the top of the stairwell burst open again, and a trio of guardsmen peered into the stairwell. One of them chuckled. “Looks like we found some ‘pieces. Think we can sell ‘em off? Not like the nobles—“ He turned his head to the side and spat. “—are gonna need ‘em anymore.”

Another laughed. “Only if we c’n have a taste first. Always did wonder what made ‘em so special.”

Slim raised his control hand, summoning a blaster. A beam of mana shot from its mouth and hit the door, blowing it off its hinges. He twitched his fingers, directing it to harry and harass the guards. “run—“ But the ‘pieces were already dashing away. His throat closed up again when he realized that there was no place for them to run _to_. There was no safety for them in the Capital. No safety for them in the palace. No safety for them anywhere.

His soul knotted and grew hot with rage. No matter who won this war, it was people like those ‘pieces that were going to lose. He laughed sourly as he headed down the hall after them, the lyrics from “Won’t Get Fooled Again” running through his head. He wasn’t always able to connect with human music, but he thought he finally understood the bitterness of that particular piece.

The servants’ quarters were an unfamiliar maze, but he managed to reach the kitchens, and from there, he was able to find his way out. Outside, he jogged toward the docks and hailed the Riverperson. They stopped alongside him, the eerie whispering from within their robe making him shiver. “hotland,” he said, reaching into his pocket for a sucker.

The Riverperson’s head dipped in acknowledgement, waiting for him to step into the boat before poling away from the harbor. Mist rose from the water, blanketing the river’s surface. Slim stuck the sucker in his mouth and stuffed his hands into his pockets, trying not to shiver. Only now did he notice that his limbs were trembling from exertion and his soul ached with hunger. The hit of magic from the sucker felt like a physical blow to his soul. Maybe it would be better to grab something to eat when he bought the explosives. He could teleport directly to Snowdin and not risk another ride with the Riverperson, who was starting to hum quietly.

Spent magic beaded on his bones like sweat, and he wiped it away, trying to settle down. Turning his head, he looked to the palace, sockets widening when one of the towers’ windows shattered, fire and smoke billowing from within. Even from this distance, he could hear the screaming; the sound carried readily over the calm waters. Mouth dry and soul hammering, he searched through his pockets, looking for his earbuds and his MP3 player, but he’d left both at home.

He adjusted the sucker, slotting it between his teeth and biting down until his jaw ached. The Riverperson followed his gaze and trilled, their feelings on the matter entirely inscrutable. “Tra la la,” the Riverperson hummed, turning their hooded head to face Slim. “~Won’t you sing with me?~”

The sucker cracked down the middle, half of the sugared confection falling through his lower jaw and pattering to the bottom of the boat. Swallowing, Slim pulled the remains of the sucker out and opened his mouth, trying to reply, but he’d lost his voice again. Pulling his hood up, he touched his neck with his other hand and shook his head.

From within the Riverperson’s hood, a smile stretched wide, white fangs glinting. “~Can’t talk. Can’t sing. Can’t _scream_. Tra la la.~” With that, they resumed their quiet humming and continued to pole along the river. They pulled up to the docks in Hotland, and Slim stepped out of the boat. Before he could walk away, the pole was thrust in front of his face, blocking his path. “You owe me a song. Tra la la~.”

Slim just stared, breathing constricted. Finally, he nodded, and the Riverperson released him before poling away. Slim watched them glide across the water until the mist swallowed them. He released an uneasy breath. Yes. Definitely get food in Hotland and teleport to Snowdin. He was _not_ taking a ride with that thing again.

Turning away from the harbor, he made his way into Hotland, seeking out the one place he knew he could acquire both food and explosives.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Update in two weeks. Promise.
> 
> Also--[The Who's "Won't Get Fooled Again"](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=zMIaqjj-zRE), for anyone unfamiliar with the song. I normally don't like to reference songs directly in my works, but for Slim's character, it seemed appropriate. 
> 
> Besides, the lyric "Meet the new boss/Same as the old boss" kept repeating through my head as I was writing this. I had to share.


	12. New meaning to 'long distance'

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Razz is patched up and phone calls are made.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: graphic injuries, but nothing too major otherwise.

Papyrus carried the small body back through the portal, not allowing himself to consider the implications of his last words. _(“my brother.”)_ “SANS,” he said as he walked past his brother, “I NEED YOU TO GET THE FIRST AID KIT. AND CALL THE ROYAL SCIENTIST. HE’S HURT—SEVERELY.”

Sans looked between him and the portal. “what happened?” he asked, “where’s slim?”

Papyrus shut his sockets and took a steadying breath. “THEIR HOUSE IS IN FLAMES—“ Sans took a step toward the portal, no doubt thinking of Slim. “BROTHER.” Papyrus’ voice was gentle but firm, and Sans hesitated. “THERE’S NOTHING YOU CAN DO FOR HIM RIGHT NOW. HE’S EITHER—“ He stuttered over the ‘d’ word. “—SAFE OR HE ISN’T. RAZZ NEEDS US. HE NEEDS _YOU_.”

Swallowing, Sans nodded and dug out his phone, dialing Alphys’ number. As he spoke into the phone, fingers toying with the tab of his hoodie’s zipper, Sans followed on Papyrus’ heels. Good. Papyrus didn’t need him running off after Slim—not while the Swapfell brothers’ basement was in flames, at least. Concern for Slim flared, but Papyrus pushed it aside and focused on Razz, focused on the monster he _could_ help. Later, they’d worry about Slim. Later. _Later._

He shouldered open the door and stomped through the snow, wincing when Razz shifted in discomfort, snow falling on his burnt bones. Papyrus wasn’t sure if he should be moving Razz at all, but it felt wrong to leave him in the dusty basement while they waited for the Royal Scientist. Once inside, he set him on the couch and cut away his armor and clothing, leaving him bare-boned so they could get a better look at his injuries.

He swallowed, trying to quiet his internal screaming. Razz’s leg was broken in two places, held to his body only by a thick mana matrix. The white of his bones was burnt black in some places, and heat fractures littered his ribcage, where the metal breastplate had pressed against his bones. His left hand was raw and sticky with mana, the palm burnt down to the mana lines. The tips of his fingers were going grey around the edges, and purple magic coagulated between his carpals and metacarpals.

Sans knelt beside him, setting the first aid kit on the coffee table. “i’m gonna go fetch alphys,” he said, “are you—?”

“I CAN TAKE CARE OF HIM UNTIL YOU GET BACK.”

Sans squeezed his shoulder, eyeing Razz before disappearing with a pop of magic. Despite his words, Papyrus froze, not sure where to begin. This required more than mere first aid, and he knew it. Rubbing the space between his brow-bones, he allowed himself to sag. He covered his sockets and took a deep, steadying breath. First things first, then. He boiled water and laid out bandages, antiseptic ointment, scissors, and anything else that might be useful.

By the time he was finished, Sans had reappeared with the Royal Scientist. Papyrus had no idea what the proper protocol for greeting her was supposed to be—she was an Important Person in the monarchy, and there was no doubt some kind of protocol in place—but on this occasion, he couldn’t find it in himself to care what those protocols might be. “CAN YOU HELP OUR FRIEND?” he asked, blunt and without preamble.

She seemed confused. “S-sans—?”

“don’ worry about it, alphy,” he said, “i’ll explain later. jus’…take a look at ‘im?” He was staring at the floor, a bit of their childhood accent slipping into his speech.

The scientist swallowed and approached Razz, nervously playing with the buttons of her coat. As she surveyed Razz, though, her fingers stilled and her gaze sharpened. She glanced back at the coffee table, nodding once in approval. Then, without glancing up, she told Sans, “I’ll need splints for his leg, forceps, stents and some surgical tubing for his hand as well. Get a variety of sizes—3/16, 1/4, and 1/8. I’m not sure what size will be best. Fast too.” She held up his hand, studying his greying fingertips. “His hand’s at risk if we can’t re-establish the mana supply.”

Sans and Papyrus both went ash grey. “r-right,” Sans said, but Alphys jumped as soon as he spoke.

She pushed her glasses up her nose and said, “P-please, I mean. A-and Sans? Th-there’s a f-file in my-my desk. Called ‘P-project F-font’….” Both of them stared at her and she pulled in on herself. “…I-I might n-need it. For…for reference.”

“yeah,” Sans said, staring hard at her. “i can get it.”

While Sans went to fetch the required materials, Alphys asked, “D-do you have a h-hand mirror? A-and a flashlight? W-will y-you hold it f-for me?”

Papyrus nodded and dashed away to retrieve both. She started by carefully cleaning his injured hand. She tried using green magic, but shook her head and muttered under her breath when his soul rejected the healing mana. Papyrus might have saved her the effort, but he had no idea how to explain what a Fell-verse was and why Razz wouldn’t respond to green magic. Thankfully, she didn’t dwell long on the failed attempt, and when she Checked him, she only briefly balked at his high LV.

Sans returned with the requested materials, and she set to work, inserting the stents into either side of his severed mana line to hold them open while she used surgical tubing to connect the line. “That’s a t-tempory fix at best,” she said, wiping her brow. It had been a very delicate procedure, and Papyrus could see the stress of it weighing on her. “W-we’ll have to take it out when his c-condition is more stable. H-his own m-mana sh-should be able t-to repair th-things, when he’s in b-better shape.” She then moved on to his broken leg, making sure to clean the injury before splinting and wrapping it.

With the most serious injuries taken care of, she set about treating the burns and heat fractures. She was more comfortable ordering Sans around and the area around the couch was crowded enough without Papyrus hanging around. They didn’t need him anymore, now that the delicate work was finished. So he pulled away, saying he was going to go make tea. In the kitchen, he filled the kettle and put it on the stove to boil. Then he dug out his phone and started dialing. Slim didn’t answer. So he tried again, and again, Slim didn’t answer. Papyrus tried a different number.

Red answered on the third ring. “heya, creampuff,” he said sounding pleased, “this business er pleasure?” A warm flush colored Papyrus’ cheekbones at the way Red said ‘pleasure’. Red looked up at his brother, winking. Edge just rolled his eyelights in disgust. He said something, but Papyrus couldn’t tell what—only after meeting his alternates did he realize how hard it was to read a skeleton’s lips.

Clearing his throat, he said, “I’M AFRAID THIS IS BUSINESS, CHERRY. HAVE YOU SEEN SMALL-ME?”

There was a beat of silence, then a gruff, “hold on.” Red looked at Edge again. He’d obviously covered the speaker with his hand, given the scuffling sound coming through. Edge’s sockets furrowed, and he shook his head. He dug a hand into his pocket, pulling out his phone and turning away. While he waited, phone to his earhole, he snapped something at Red, who nodded curtly. “ya mind tellin’ me why yer lookin’ fer ‘im?”

Papyrus started pacing the floor. He’d really thought Slim might be with Red. Would he have gone over to the Swap brothers’ house? He couldn’t imagine why, but it was possible, he supposed…. In the living room, he heard Razz’s phone ring and he sighed, “PLEASE TELL EDGY-ME TO HANG UP. RAZZ IS UNCONSCIOUS ON OUR COUCH. HE HASN’T SEEN SMALL-ME EITHER.”

Red blinked. “uh…. hold on a minute, okay, creampuff?”

He shook his head, drumming his fingers on his leg. “CHERRY, I’M AFRAID THIS IS AN EMERGENCY. I’LL SPEAK TO YOU—“

“boss wants ta talk ta ya.”

Papyrus spun around to turn the burner off as the kettle started to whistle. “PLEASE CALL LAZY-ME WHILE I TALK TO HIM, THEN.” Edge might know something.

His second sight went black while Red passed the phone to Edge. Then the semi-familiar scenery of Snowdin forest returned as a shadow over his normal vision. They were headed back to Snowdin, it seemed; Papyrus could see Snowdin’s makeshift walls looming ahead of them. ~~Sometimes he wondered if Red realized exactly how much of Underfell Papyrus had actually seen. Red did his best to shelter him, but it was obvious that he sometimes forgot about Papyrus’ phone vision~~. “What happened?” Edge asked, curt and sharp as ever.

“CHERRY’S CALLING LAZY-ME?”

“Yes, yes. He’s calling the ashtray right now, and if the lazy-bones doesn’t pick up, he’ll try the pipsqueak. What happened?” Papyrus took a deep breath and told Edge what he knew—which wasn’t much. As he talked, he opened the door and took a good, long look at Razz. On the other end of the line, Edge inhaled sharply, just as distressed by the sight as Papyrus had been. “We’ll be there momentarily.”

Papyrus shut the door. “THERE’S NO REASON HE’D BE IN UNDERFELL?”

“None that I could think of. Unless Razz set him to spying.” He looked down at Red, who shook his head. “Not in Underswap either, it seems.”

Papyrus closed his sockets, rubbing the space between his brows again. “RIGHT. WELL, I’M CERTAIN HE’S SOMEWHERE. WE’LL FIND HIM.”

Edge didn’t say anything, and Papyrus suddenly wished he was talking to Blue. It was too early to lose hope, too early to give up…but a little positivity would certainly be appreciated. “We’ll be there soon.”

“DON’T RUSH,” Papyrus said, “I’M NOT SURE HOW ALPHYS WILL REACT TO MORE SKELETONS SHOWING UP OUT OF THE BLUE.”

“You think I give a shit about your royal scientist’s peace of mind, creampuff?”

Sockets narrowed, Papyrus said, “THERE’S NO NEED TO BE—“ Edge hung up, and Papyrus sighed. Of course. Putting his phone away, he said under his breath, “Yes. Because being rude makes _everything_ go so much smoother. Such a practical, sensible way of dealing with stressful situations.”

Just then, Alphys called for him, and he returned to the living room. She gave him some general instructions on care, and Papyrus nodded along, thanking her while he kept a hand on Sans’ shoulder. His brother knelt by Razz’s side, hands limp in his lap and gaze fixed on Razz’ slack face. Papyrus himself could barely stand to look at Razz. His body was limp and buried in bandages. The glow of purple magic glimmered from under the white cloth, emanating from the healing matrices wrapping his bones. There was nothing more for Alphys to do at this point. Without the assistance of green magic, they’d just have to wait for Razz to heal naturally.

“THANK YOU, ROYAL SCIENTIST,” Papyrus said, doing his best to address her properly, “WE GREATLY APPRECIATE YOUR ASSISTANCE IN THIS MATTER!”

She blushed, toying with the buttons on her coat. Looking away, she said, “O-of course! I’ll…um. I’ll be back in a couple days t-to check on him. Y-you can c-call me if you n-need me.” Blushing darker, she backtracked, saying, “N-not that y-you’d n-need me f-for anything! J-just, um, if, um….”

Sans reached out and squeezed her hand. “thanks, alphy,” he said. “you did real good.”

She smiled tentatively and nodded. As she turned to go, though, she said, “Th-that file—“

Sans’ grin was inscrutable. “what file?”

Alphys looked at the file sitting on their coffee table. CONFIDENTIAL was written across it in bold red letters. Under that, in smaller script it said ‘PROJECT FONT’. Alphys looked away from it and back up at Sans and Papyrus. “I need—“

Sans never stopped smiling. “files go missing all the time, though. right, alphy? you and i both know the good doctor never was real good at keeping his papers in order.”

She tugged on the buttons of her lab coat. “I’m s-s-supposed to—“

A faint flicker of blue magic glimmered in his eye socket. “you’ve got your own projects to worry about, don’t you?”

She paled and Papyrus squeezed his brother’s shoulder in warning. Pulling away, Papyrus scooped up the file and—with a flourish—tucked it into his inventory. “MISS ROYAL SCIENTIST—“

“A-alphys is f-fine—“

“MISS ALPHYS,” he said, draping an arm over her shoulders and guiding her toward the door. “WHAT SANS MEANS IS THAT YOU’RE SURELY A VERY BUSY MONSTER. YOU HAVE YOUR OWN PROJECTS TO WORK ON. YOU PROBABLY DON’T HAVE TIME TO MIND EVERY LITTLE DETAIL OF A LONG-DEAD PROJECT. IT’S ALWAYS A SHAME WHEN THINGS GO MISSING, BUT IT HAPPENS. JUST LOOK AT SANS’ ROOM! YOU CAN’T FIND A THING IN THERE—“

“aw, c’mon, bro. it isn’t that bad—“

“—BECAUSE THE _MAGIC TRASH TORNADO_ PICKS UP EVERYTHING! NOT JUST TRASH, SANS, I DON’T CARE WHAT YOU SAY!” The two skeletons eyed each other for a moment, and Sans eventually blushed and looked away, feeling shame clawing at his spine. Papyrus gave a self-satisfied nod and turned back to Alphys. “BUT NEVER FEAR! THEY ALWAYS TURN UP. SOMETIMES IN THE MOST UNUSUAL OF PLACES! I ONCE FOUND A CUP OF MILK I’D MISPLACED IN THE FREEZER! WORST MILKSHAKE I’VE EVER HAD!” At the door, he opened it and patted her fondly on top of her head. “I’M CERTAIN WHATEVER FILES THAT MAY OR MAY NOT BE ‘MISSING’ WILL TURN UP, MISS ROYAL SCIENTIST—I MEAN, ‘MISS ALPHYS’.”

She looked between him and Sans, looking a little shell-shocked. Finally she scuffed her feet awkwardly and said, “O-okay. Th-thanks. I’ll, um, I’ll look for it.”

“I’M CERTAIN YOU WILL. JUST GIVE IT TIME.” He beamed at her and waved as she left, thanking her loudly. Sans stood beside him, waving too. When she was out of sight, Papyrus said, “I’LL MAKE COPIES AT THE LIBRARBY. I’LL GIVE YOU THE ORIGINAL AFTER.”

“you want me to put it in the freezer for her to find?”

Papyrus sighed. That would be Sans’ take away. “IF IT MAKES YOU HAPPY, I DON’T SEE WHY NOT.”

They weren’t alone for very long. While Papyrus was busy trying to make sure Razz was as comfortable as possible—and keeping an eyelight out to make sure Sans didn’t do anything too foolish—their door opened and the Fell brothers came in without knocking. Red looked at Papyrus, but hurried over to Sans, both of them speaking softly and rapidly. Papyrus ignored the faint twinge of hurt he felt, instead forcing himself to smile when Edge came to stand beside him and study Razz. “Your royal scientist was here?” he asked, “What did she have to say?”

Papyrus gave him a quick rundown of Alphys’ instructions, though he chose not to mention the file. Now wasn’t the time. He kept glancing at the two Sans-es, though, fully expecting one or both of them to disappear at any moment. He’d been in the Swapfell brothers’ basement, though, and he well knew that they couldn’t help. Not now. Not without careful planning. Seeing that his attention was elsewhere, Edge held out his hand, showing the fuses he’d removed from the machine. “Don’t worry. They’re not going anywhere without these. Shouldn’t keep the Swap brothers from arriving, though.”

Papyrus’ shoulders relaxed immediately. “Thank you, Edgy-me.” He kept his voice down, not wanting to alert Sans at this point.

Edge just nodded and crossed his arms, looking at Razz. He didn’t say anything when Papyrus was finished speaking, just rolled everything around in his head. “You already tried his cell phone?”

“TWICE.”

Edge grunted and pulled out his cell, looking at it. He dialed Slim’s number and hit ‘SEND’. Papyrus nodded. The Elder Puzzler always said that there was a kind of magic in third attempts. Someone knocked while Edge turned away to call, and Papyrus allowed the Swap brothers in. Again, he explained the situation while Paps knelt beside Razz, his sockets wide and mouth covered with his hand. Blue looked up at Papyrus. “What happened?”

Papyrus was getting tired of telling the story, so he made sure to stand near Paps while he explained everything. In the corner of the room, Edge hung up and looked at his phone before trying again. Red and Sans gathered around Paps and Blue while he talked. Sans put a hand on Paps’ shoulder, both of them looking at Razz’s small form. The rise and fall of his chest was barely visible under the blanket. As Rus finished talking, Red came to stand beside him. “so…anybody got any ideas?” he asked, looking at the others. His voice was gruff and harsh. His eyelights were bright and demanding. Of them, he was the closest to Slim. “anybody—“ His chest hitched and Papyrus put his arm around him, squeezing his shoulder. “anybody know where slim might’ve gone? we need to find—“

“Slim?” Edge asked, his voice cutting through their conversation like a whip crack. “Is that—?” They all stared at him, and all of them watched as his features darkened and his brow-bones furrowed. “Who is this?” he demanded. He was silent for a time, listening. Then he swallowed hard and said, “Slow down. I don’t speak fluent Spider. I can’t understand you when you talk that fast.”

“…boss?” Edge looked up at them, then turned his back, starting to pace as he listened to the Spider on the other line. Red stepped forward and tried, again, to get his attention. “boss, who is—?”

Edge waved for him to be silent, his expression intense and his eyelights bright and keen. “Tell me what you know about Papyrus,” he said, “I’m an ally.” His sockets narrowed. “Proof?” he asked derisively, “I have his personal number, you twat. Do you really think he hands that out to anyone that asks?”

He fell silent, but he looked no happier. He was silent for several minutes, features hard and inscrutable. “Keep this phone charged and on; contact me as soon as you find anything else. I’ll be in touch,” he said before hanging up. For a moment, Papyrus was afraid he might throw the phone, but he just tucked it into his pocket and looked up at them.

“That was Muffet,” he said finally, “Slim’s Muffet. Apparently, he left his phone at her house during their last…” He sneered. “…‘rendezvous’. She says things are in chaos. Rebels swept through Snowdin, and when they didn’t find the esteemed Captain at home, they burnt it down. Now, they’re going from house to house, looking for royalists. Half the guard’s been killed, and she has no idea where Slim is. She did manage to find a Migosp, though. A Migosp rebel in a royal messenger’s livery. The rebels had apparently set a trap for the Captain, but only managed to catch his dog. She doesn’t know what happened after that, but word travels fast. New Home’s burning, and the palace is swarming with rebel soldiers.” He met Red’s gaze before saying, “It doesn’t look good.”

“boss, we’re goin’ after ‘im, right?”

Paps, previously fixated on Razz, turned to regard at Edge. “going where?” he asked, sounding slightly dazed.

“To Swapfell.”

Paps blinked. “you’re not seriously— edgelord, you can’t.”

Edge raised a brow-bone. “And why’s that?”

Paps sputtered. “you just—you can’t! it’s dangerous!”

“All the more reason to go. Runt!” Red straightened, ready to receive his orders. “Their machine’s likely been damaged by the fire. Bring whatever you might need to repair it, if you’re not confident we can scavenge it in Swapfell. Pack an emergency kit. Change of clothes. Emergency rations and first aid supplies. You know the drill.”

Red nodded, but Paps stood, staring hard at Edge. “you’re not serious, are you? you’re not really doing this, are you?”

Edge wasn’t even looking at him. He was staring down at his phone, busy dialing. “You keep saying that, and I don’t quite understand what you hope to accomplish,” he said, bringing the phone to his acoustic meatus as it rang. Paps stepped close, yanking the phone out of his grip.

He held it up to his mouth and said, “he’ll call you back,” before hanging up.

Edge closed his hand around Paps’, the phone still gripped in Paps’ hand. “What, exactly, do you think you’re doing, ashtray?”

“you’re not going.”

“And I suppose you think you’re going to stop us?”

“ _yes_.”

Edge cocked a brow-bone. “I’m waiting,” he said. “How, exactly, do you think you’re going to manage that?”

Paps faltered, breathing hard. “edge. you could get hurt. you could die. you could—“ He choked on his words, fingers clenched tight around his hoodie, right above his clavicle. “please, edge. please don’t go.”

Something loosened in Edge’s posture, and he cupped the back of Paps’ head, bringing him forward to press their foreheads together. Subtle projections—/ Stability / Security / Strength / Control /—from Edge surrounded the pair, and he brought his hand to rest on the back of Paps’ neck. He didn’t say anything, just held him, and Papyrus looked away. They weren’t doing anything inappropriate or explicit, but it was such an intimate display, it felt wrong to watch.

Red, too, looked away, and Papyrus caught his eyelight. Holding out his hand, he said, “I’ll help you pack, Cherry.”

With a glance at Edge and Paps, Red took his hand and allowed Papyrus to lead him down to the basement. Sans made as if to follow them, but Blue waylaid him easily, babbling about getting a place set up for Razz and asking about making dinner for everyone and what kind of supplies they had and would Papyrus perhaps have a footstool for the kitchen sink? Stars bless Blue and his distraction techniques.

Together, he and Red trudged through the snow and down into the basement. At first, Papyrus only asked what he would need for the trip. Tools, mostly. Wire. A few more odds and ends. Plastic pieces that might have melted in the fire. It felt like hours later, though it wasn’t half that long, they stood side-by-side, Red’s inventory fully packed with all the tools and materials he’d need to repair the machine.

With effort, Papyrus gathered up his enthusiasm and his positivity. “I’M QUITE SURE SMALL-ME IS PERFECTLY SAFE!”

Red nodded perfunctorily. “yeah. he, uh. he knows swapfell better’n anyone. if anyone…if anyone could get outta ‘a tough spot, it’s him. he’s…he’s….” Red exhaled hard and scrubbed at his sockets. “fuckin’ d-dirt. gets in my sockets, ya know?” He swallowed hard, shoulders shuddering.

Papyrus scooped him up and held him close, projecting / STRENGTH / SECURITY / CARE / LOVE / STABILITY /. Red shuddered and wrapped his arms tight around him, forehead pressed into Papyrus’ chest. Softly, Papyrus murmured, “It’s okay, Cherry. It’s okay. You’re allowed to be upset. You’re allowed to be angry and scared and sad. All of those things. It’s okay. It’s okay to feel that way.”

“i jus’—i wan’ ‘im ta be okay. tha’s all. i jus’ wan’ ‘im ta be okay.” His voice cracked as he spoke, trying to control his emotions.

“I know,” Papyrus said, still holding him close. “I know. You’ll find him, Cherry. You will. I know it.”

“how do ya know, though? how can ya sound so f-fuckin’ sure, huh?” His tone was a little angry, as if challenging Papyrus to confess just how unsure he really was.

Papyrus only pulled back just enough to kiss Red on the cheek. “I know because I believe in you, Cherry. If he’s…If he’s there to be found, you’ll find him.”

Until that moment, Red had been holding it together very well. But as soon as Papyrus said that, he broke down. Heavy tears gathered in his sockets and spilled down the sides of his face, and he sobbed, clutching at the front of Papyrus’ sweater. Sitting on the floor of the basement, Papyrus just held him close and let him cry, projecting strength and safety all the while.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'd really like to thank everyone that has been so supportive of me and this story, especially considering what has been a rather long, unanticipated hiatus. I'd especially like to thank "GlassThreads", though. They recently went through and left comments on several chapters in Broken Bones and on this piece. It really inspired me to look back at these fics and fall in love with them again. I think I'm finally ready to dive back in and tell this story. 
> 
> Your comments really do mean more than I can say. Thank you all. ^_^


	13. A fine way to say goodbye

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Edge does his best to reassure the Swap brothers as he prepares to leave, and Blue could have planned that better.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning for - mild sexual content, biting, soul fondling, threat of impending danger, and some very mild consent issues. 
> 
> The subject of an action defines whether or not an action is okay. In this case, everyone is _fine_ , but that's only because the subject is not upset by it. It is always better to ask for permission first, since it's not guaranteed that they wouldn't object. **Real life doesn't work like fiction** , and while I try to treat issues of consent with respect, this is definitely a grey area that I would not recommend crossing into in real life.

Releasing Paps, Edge pulled back and said, “I need to make a phone call. Why don’t you help the pipsqueak?”

His counterpart met his gaze, still unsettled and upset, but the stubborn set of his shoulders had relaxed. “can you promise me something?” Edge cocked a brow-bone, waiting. “promise me you’ll come back.” His soul clenched. He couldn’t make that promise, and they both knew it, but Paps’ breathing was still unsteady and his grip on Edge’s spine and scapula was still too tight. “edge, _please_.”

Glancing at the kitchen door, Edge said, “Come with me,” and guided Paps upstairs. Sans’ door was locked, but Rus’ was open. They went inside, and Edge gestured to the bed. “Sit down.” While Paps sat, Edge locked the door. Door locks meant little, given that half their number could simply teleport from place to place, but it would hopefully discourage anyone from intruding. Crossing the room, Edge came to stand before Paps. He looked up at him, nervous but hopeful and—most significantly—trusting.

“so, what? are we having a last minute make-out session or something? a little rude to take over rus’ bedroom like this, but i mean, i don’t mind if you don’t—“

“This isn’t—“ Edge sighed, trying not to laugh. He scrubbed at his face, then caught Paps by the jaw. “There will be no—there will be none of that. But….” His hand trailed down to his collar-bone, to the place he’d marked. Magic lingered in the mark and Paps’ hand caught his, pressing his fingers into the bone. “I won’t make you any promises that I can’t keep, but I can strengthen the bond between us. If something happens….” Paps’ head snapped up, sockets wide, and his hand tightened around Edge’s fingers. Edge pressed on. “…you’ll know, at least. I can grant you that much.”

Paps swallowed hard. “not much of a gift, edgelord. not much of a promise either.”

Slowly, Edge lowered himself to Paps’ lap, settling so that his legs were on either side of his knees. Paps’ hands trailed down his ribcage to his hips, and he squeezed, as if he was afraid Edge might fall. “Uncertainty is a curse unto itself,” he said, “Not knowing if a—if someone is dead or alive is torturous. If something happens to me—to _us_ , then I would rather you knew for sure.”

Paps’ chest hitched as he forced a smile. “yeah, well, i’d rather know for sure that you were safe with _us._ c’mon, edge. please. you don’t—“

Comforted by the locked door, Edge leaned forward and kissed him, soft and careful. Paps fell silent in response, and Edge pressed their foreheads together, projecting gently. “I do. I have to. It’s my job. My _duty_ , and I’m not abandoning anyone under my charge.”

“yeah? since when was slim your problem, huh?”

Edge pulled back just enough to look him in the eyelights. “Since the runt adopted him a while back.” He dug his thumb into the mark on Paps’ collarbone, earning a hitched breath. “They’re close, and if I decide to sit on my hands, the little moron’s going to run headlong into trouble, with no one to watch his back. Or did you forget about his impulsive streak?”

Paps winced, shutting his sockets as his shoulders sagged. “you know, i love your brother, but he can be a real pain in the ass sometimes.”

Edge snorted. “You’ve only just noticed?”

A small smile touched Paps’ mouth, then he sighed, resigned. “okay. so. this marking business. what do you need me to do?”

“Take off your shirt. I’ll need to push more magic into your system. A bite is the least invasive method, but it will be somewhat painful.”

Nodding, Paps pulled his hoodie off, and his shirt followed, revealing his ribcage—and the collar around his cervical vertebrae. Edge’s fingers dropped to it immediately, slipping under the leather to caress the bone. Absently, he noted that he ought to replace the old collar with a new one. Something more suited to Paps. Only to remember that Paps was not actually _his_. The collar was a coping mechanism only—they had no arrangement, no agreement, and Paps only had a limited understanding of what the collar really meant.

He forced his gaze from the collar to fixate on the healed mark on his collarbone. The imprint of his teeth had almost faded entirely, and very little—if any—of his magic remained. The connection was still there, but very tenuous. He smoothed his fingers over the mark, and Paps sighed deeply, as if he were relieved. “You’re sure about this?” he asked. He didn’t want to do what he’d done last time. It still sickened him, sometimes, remembering how he’d marked the other skeleton without his prior consent.

“yeah,” he said, voice breathy, “go ahead, edgelord.”

He leaned forward, and Paps’ hand reached up to cup the back of his skull. It felt like encouragement, and that last bit of hesitance faded from Edge’s soul. He ran his tongue across the bone, his mana lines prickling as he did so. Fitting his mouth over the bone, he reached out and took Paps’ free hand, giving him something to hold. He paused a moment, and waited until Paps said, “ready.”

Sockets shut, he bit down, drawing on his magic as he did so. Paps gasped, his spine arching as he pressed Edge’s skull into his collarbone and his fingers tightened around his hand. Edge shifted, adjusting his angle. When he tasted marrow, he pulled back and lapped at the wound, pushing his magic into the mark. He opened his sockets and his breath caught.

Paps’ soul floated in his chest, glowing a warm orange. It was perfect and pure—soft, the light it emitted the color of honey. Magic flooded Edge’s mouth as he stared at it, hypnotized. Paps was panting, his grip still tight. “—please, edge, please please _please_ touch me please just—“ He babbled incoherently, and even though some distant part of himself knew that he probably shouldn’t— ~~this was the kind of thing that should be discussed ahead of time; there should be ground rules and limits and~~ —he reached inside Paps’ ribcage and cupped his soul. It fluttered against his hand, delicate and warm and alive.

His own soul felt hot, heavy—as if it was just on the verge of manifesting. He fought down the urge and instead focused on projecting / Safety / Security / Control / Stability / directly into Paps’ soul. He moaned and sagged against Edge, tucking his face into his shoulder. Still projecting, still gently thumbing Paps’ soul, Edge continued to push his magic into the mark on his collarbone. Only when Paps’ bones started to grow hot, his joints faintly glowing, did Edge pull away. His breathing was slow and deep, and his soul hammered in his chest, ready to manifest.

Their gazes met and Edge said, “We should stop.” But his voice was unsteady, breathless, and then Paps was kissing him, fingers tight around his ilia. For a moment, Edge lost himself in the kiss. Their magic mixed and melded, sparking heat along his jaw. Then, breathing hard, he pulled back and said, “We _need_ to stop. I have a phone call to make, and I have to check my inventory.”

Paps whined but pulled away, pressing his forehead into Edge’s shoulder. “right. yeah. slim. okay. but when you get back—“

“We’ll talk,” Edge said, “About this. I don’t…I don’t want you to get hurt.”

“’m not made of glass, edgelord.”

“No, but—“

Someone knocked softly, and the doorknob jiggled a little as someone tried to open it. A moment later, Blue called through the wood, “Are you two in here? Red says he’s got everything he needs.”

Climbing off of Paps—and pointing to his shirt and hoodie emphatically—Edge replied, “Tell him to double check! We won’t be able to get back until the machine’s fixed. If he’s missing anything critical, we’ll be stuck.”

“Okay!” Blue paused. “Is Papy with you?”

Edge looked to Paps, brow-bone raised. He cleared his throat as he finished tugging on his hoodie. “uh, yeah, bro. you need something?”

“No!” Blue said, too brightly, “Just wanted to make sure you were okay.”

Edge eyed the door, frowning. Something felt off about this, but he couldn’t put his finger on it. He dug his phone out of his pocket and started dialing. “who are you calling?”

“Undyne. She’ll need to know I won’t be available.”

He frowned. “is she going to be okay with that?”

“I suppose we’ll find out, won’t we?” He put the phone to his acoustic meatus, listening to it ring. Undyne picked up on the third ring, and he shut his sockets when his vision doubled. Wet rock and glowing blue algae filled his vision. “Captain,” he said.

“Lieutenant,” Undyne replied, and he could hear her smirking. “What’s up?”

“I need a favor.”

She surveyed her surroundings, then ducked into a private alcove. “Yeah? What kind of favor?”

He huffed in response. “An ally’s gone missing. I need time to find him.”

She was quiet for a time, considering that. “How much time?”

“I don’t know.”

“…Papyrus, people that go missing don’t usually turn up again. You know that.”

“This is different.”

“Yeah? How?”

He growled. “I do not have time to explain everything to you. Will you give me time off or not?”

She laughed. “You and I both know that you’re going to take off with or without my permission.”

“Yes, but if you give it to me, then I’ll _owe_ you, fish-bitch.”

More snickering. “Alright, fine. Need me to feed the fluffball?”

He snorted. “Fang can take care of himself. Please be serious.”

“Fine, fine. I’ll make sure the Dogi can cover for you. Oh, and gutter-rat?”

“What?”

“Remember—no Mercy.”

His sockets opened, and he turned his head, eyeing Paps. “No prisoners. I remember.” With that, he pulled the phone away and hung up. “Would you mind giving me some privacy? I want to make sure I have everything I need, and you are an unnecessary distraction.”

Under different circumstances, he suspected Paps might have taken the opportunity to tease him about that, but as it was, he agreed readily enough and slipped out the door. He paused. “hey, edge?”

“Hmm?”

“promise you won’t leave without saying goodbye?”

Edge blinked, surprised by the request. He nodded stiffly. “Yes. That I can promise—I won’t leave without saying goodbye.”

It earned him a weak smile. “thanks, edgelord.” Edge just waved him off, not sure why that required a promise.

Alone now, he opened up his inventory, and started sorting things by category. First aid materials? Check. Spare clothing? Check. Kits for sleeping rough? Check. Weapons? Armor? Check and check.

While he sifted through the items in his inventory, he took the time to focus himself as well. Swapfell was in the middle of a riot that had rocked the entirety of the Underground. This wasn’t going to be easy, and they weren’t going to have any easy means of escape if things went bad. He needed to be ready to do whatever was necessary and ready for whatever he might see while there. Swallowing, he shut his sockets and took some slow, deep breaths, embracing the part of himself that thrived in the Fell ‘verses. He’d need it, if he had any hope of finding and saving Slim.

A soft knock interrupted him again, but this time, the doorknob turned freely and Blue poked his head inside. “Edge?”

He looked back at him. “What it is, pipsqueak?”

Blue hesitated, then slipped inside and shut the door behind him. He wasn’t looking at him, and his body language slowly shifted from upright and cheerful to stiff and stilted. He swallowed hard and lifted his chin, eyelights narrowed to pinpricks. “What’s going to happen now?” he asked.

Edge wasn’t sure how to reply. He tucked his phone away, confident that he’d accounted for everything. “Red and I are going to Swapfell. I thought that was clear.”

“No, I mean—“ Blue huffed, hands clenched. “What about Slim? Is he going to be okay? What if you can’t find him? And what about Razz? What are we going to do with him when he wakes up? And—“

Edge pressed a hand to the top of his head, projecting / Safety / Security / Stability / Control / for the second time that evening. “Easy, pipsqueak,” he ordered, scratching at his coronal suture. “We just take it one step at a time—“ Blue grabbed him, wrapping his arms around him and burying his face in his chest. Edge froze, not sure what to do with himself initially.

“I hate this,” Blue murmured.

Slowly, Edge lowered his arms and folded them around Blue, squeezing gently. It would have been easy to tell him that everything would be fine. Easy to tell him not to worry. But easy platitudes were too much like lies for Edge’s taste. He respected Blue too much for that. Instead, he sighed and reminded him, “The phones will still work, even if the machine doesn’t. I’ll report back as often as possible.”

“You promise?”

Edge nodded once. That was a promise he could keep. “I promise.” He squeezed Blue once, then started to pull away—only for Blue to pull him down into a kiss.

His sockets went wide and a warm shiver went down his spine as Blue stroked a finger over his mandible. The kiss should have been chaste—there was no tongue, no wandering hands—but he could feel the desperation behind it. And his own soul responded with a wave of warmth and affection. It was confusing, coming so fast on the heels of what had happened with Paps. Shouldn’t he feel repulsed? Or betrayed? Instead, he was struggling not to pull Blue closer.

Carefully, not wanting to hurt Blue’s feelings, he pushed him away, needing to gather himself and make sense of his feelings. Blue was looking up at him, something like hope and shame in his eyelights. “I’m—I’m sorry!” he said, holding his hands protectively against his chest. “I meant to ask. I meant to tell you how I felt, but I just—I couldn’t find the words. And now you probably hate me—“

Edge shook his head. “I don’t hate you,” he said. His own voice sounded distant. “I—“ Looking up, his soul went cold. Paps stood in the doorway, watching both of them. How was he supposed to explain this? It had to be a misunderstanding of some sort. Blue wouldn’t have hurt his brother like this. Not for anything. Maybe he didn’t know. Maybe he thought he’d been the first to make such a move. That didn’t sit quite right with him. He and Paps hadn’t exactly put a name to their relationship, but he’d thought it was understood.

Whatever—a mistake on his part, then. They’d have to rectify this. He looked down at Blue, and he felt a soul-deep pang. He liked Blue. He liked him a lot. He didn’t want to hurt him. And—the memory of the kiss lingered, making his bones prickle. But Paps bore his mark and his collar, even if he didn’t fully understand the meaning of that. If he had to choose, then the choice was easy enough.

Edge straightened, trying to gather himself. Before he could shape his thoughts into words, though, Paps crossed the room and kissed him as well. Blue’s hand slipped into his, even as Paps wrapped an arm around Edge’s ilia. It was dizzying and _confusing as fuck_.

“come home safe, edgelord.”

“Yeah. Come home safe.”

“I—“ He held desperately to the normalcy of that statement. “I will.” ~~And he wondered when, exactly, he’d come to view the Tale-verses as ‘home’, when he’d come to care about these two so deeply~~. He shook the thought away. Straightening his spine, he said, “We are talking about all of _this_ when I return. You both understand?”

Blue nodded, looking solemn but hopeful. Paps just cocked his head, searching his eyelights. “whatever you say, edge. ball’s in your court.”

He had no idea what that meant, but he pushed it to the back of his mind and left the room, ignoring the flush across his cheekbones. “Runt! Fall in!”

It didn’t take long for Red to come bustling out of the kitchen, adjusting his jacket and tugging on his collar. “yeesh, boss. ‘m comin’. keep yer pants on.” He paused when he caught sight of Edge, raising a brow-bone. “…are you _blushing?_ ”

The blush only grew hotter. Blue’s giggling in the background did not help. “None of your business!” he snapped, “You have all the tools and equipment you need?”

Red snorted in amusement, though he eyed Blue and Paps—both of them leaning against the bannister upstairs—suspiciously. “yeah, sure, boss. ‘m ready. le’s do this.”

“you two leaving without saying goodbye?” Sans asked, appearing at Edge’s elbow.

Following Red out of the kitchen, Rus smiled and said, “CHERRY AND I SAID OUR GOODBYES—“ Sans’ eyelights went out, and he looked at Red, who lifted his chin. Edge laid a hand on Sans’ shoulder, squeezing in warning. “—AND I BELIEVE BLUE AND LAZY-ME HAVE HAD WORDS WITH EDGY-ME.” Paps coughed, trying to cover a laugh, and Edge tried to ignore the lingering heat across his cheekbones. “WHICH MEANS—“ Rus swept forward, scooping both his brother and Edge up. “—WE NEED TO WISH EDGY-ME WELL ON HIS JOURNEY.”

Red snickered, watching Rus effectively trap both Edge and Sans. Sans, who had one hand free, patted Edge on the top of his head. “keep outta trouble, edgelord. and if short and squat—“

“ _BROTHER!”_

“—needs help with the machine, gimme a ring and i’ll come lend a hand.”

Resigned to the hug, Edge nevertheless flipped Red off for his snickering, angling his hand so Rus wouldn’t notice. “I don’t think that will be necessary, but I’ll remember the offer, shortstuff. Rus? Are you quite finished?”

“NOT QUITE.”

Edge sighed, allowing Rus to squeeze them both. “Let me know when you are. We’d like to be on our way sometime today, if at all possible.”

That only earned him a bone-crushing squeeze. “YOU’LL BE CAREFUL? AND YOU’LL LOOK AFTER CHERRY—OF COURSE YOU WILL, YES, I _KNOW_ , BUT I JUST HAVE TO ASK, YOU UNDERSTAND—AND YOU’LL FIND SLIM?”

Squirming until he was able to breathe again, Edge said, “Yes, yes, you overgrown—“ He could feel his sins crawling on his back, from multiple angles. “—worrywart. We’ll be careful. Now _put me down_.”

With a final squeeze—Edge did not _squeak_ ; that was just a high-pitched grunt—Rus put them down, his eyelights over-bright and his sockets creased in worry. His gaze darted briefly to Red, and Edge clasped his wrist in a warrior’s grip. He understood Rus’ worry. “We know the Fell ‘verses. We know the risks, but we know how to mitigate them as well,” he said, softer and more genuine. For a moment, it looked like Rus would try to pick him up again, but thankfully, Sans distracted him with a yelp.

Edge sighed, watching Sans grip his hand and glare at Red. “ _Runt_.”

Red pocketed the joybuzzer with a cruel grin. “what’s up, boss?”

Edge and Rus exchanged a look and separated the two Sans-es. “When someone hands you an olive branch,” he said stiffly, marching Red toward the door, “you don’t set it on fire.”

“yeah, yeah. shoulda stuck it up ‘is—“

“Bye, Red! Keep an eyelight on Edge! Make sure he takes care of himself! Let us know when you find Slim!”

Red turned as much as he could and waved at the Swap brothers, assuring them that he’d take care of boss. Edge just rolled his eyelights and barreled forward. This was taking too long, and they needed to get moving. With a final farewell, he shut the door behind him, and they trudged through the snow. “What’s your status?”

“s ‘n c. yours?”

“The same.”

They were silent as they descended the steps, both of them slipping into their Fell personas. At the last step, Edge shoved Red toward the machine. He stumbled and grumbled, glaring at Edge. “the fuck was that fer?”

“You’re moving too slow. Set the coordinates for Snowdin forest, near the cave wall. I want to find a cavern to serve as our base of operations. Snowdin itself will be compromised.”

“yeah, yeah.” He mumbled something under his breath, punching numbers into the machine’s keypad. They stood before it, listening to the hum as it warmed up. “…think we’ll find ‘im?”

“If he’s alive to be found.” He wasn’t going to lie to his brother, wasn’t going to sugarcoat the reality. Not if it would only give him a sense of false hope. But he did reach out and slip his fingers under Red’s collar. He wouldn’t lie to him, but he wouldn’t leave him without comfort either.

The portal opened, and together, they stepped through, braced for whatever they might face.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow, Blue. _Great_ way to ask Edge if he wants to be part of a polyship with you and your brother. Excellent methodology. That won't cause any confusion at _all_.
> 
>  
> 
> ~~Also, don't just kiss people without clearing it with them first. Very much not okay. But this is fiction, and while I usually try not to play too fast and loose with consent, this seemed right. It's not going to be without consequence, though.~~


	14. Gold

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Grillby is having a good day.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TRIGGER WARNING IN THE END NOTES CONTAINS SPOILERS.

Grillby smiled automatically when the bells on the door jangled, announcing a customer. The smile grew smoother and more genuine when Papyrus stepped in, turning the sign to read ‘CLOSED’ as the door shut behind him. “Hello, sugar,” he said, leaning forward eagerly. Unfortunately, Sans did not follow him inside. Then again, even the arrogant Captain must have realized it was better to keep his head down, lest he risk losing it. “What can I help you with?”

Papyrus looked up at him, his eyelights narrowed to pinpricks. Grillby could feel his sins crawling on his back, and he smiled in response. Papyrus wasn’t Sans, but he was _fascinating_ nonetheless. He approached the counter, moving with the kind of caution Grillby usually only saw in injured monsters. He smelled faintly of spent magic and sulfur, and Grillby had to wonder if he’d gotten caught in the crossfire at the capital. Papyrus held out a fist and dumped a small pile of gold coins on the counter. Grillby counted the coins. “Suckers aren’t that expensive, sweetheart.”

“i need food and an explosive with a delayed timer.”

Grillby grinned. “Ooh. Sounds like somebody’s gonna have a fun night out on the town. Need any help~? I’m always up for a good time.” Papyrus just stared back at him, face blank and eyelights gleaming. Grillby pouted. “You’re no fun. Where’s your brother? He’s always entertaining~.” Papyrus flinched and Grillby leaned forward, scenting blood. “What’s the matter, sweetheart? Did you slip your leash?”

Glaring, Papyrus leaned forward until their faces were nearly touching. “are you selling? if not, i’ll take my gold somewhere else.”

He reached his hand out to gather up the G, but Grillby laid a hand over his, squeezing the wrist. With his other hand, he swept the gold up and tucked it into his apron pocket. “No need for that, sugar. I’m more than happy to get you whatever you need,” he purred, tracing a finger over the underside of Papyrus’ jaw. Papyrus jerked away and glared at him, eyelight flashing. “Heh. Feisty. Just the way I like them.” He winked. “Now, don’t go anywhere, sweetheart. Just give me a moment—I’ll be right back.”

He bowed mockingly, then slipped into the back, dropping his smile as soon as he was alone. Candy slipped from her bed of coals and wound around his leg. He bent to pet her, and sparks arced from her back. She chirruped and purred, while Grillby considered his options. Alphys had said she’d pay for Sans, but she hadn’t said anything about Papyrus. After all, Papyrus wasn’t a symbol of Toriel’s rule. Not like Sans was.

Standing, he dusted off his hands, and Candy slithered away, sniffing the floor for discarded bits of food. He opened a drawer and pulled a vial from it, checking the label before nodding to himself. Even if Alphys didn’t want him, Papyrus was a pretty specimen. Tall. Lean. Legs to kill for. He’d require delicate handling, but he could probably spin that into a selling point. It was even possible Papyrus knew where Sans had disappeared to, or he might be just the right bait to bring him out of hiding.

He took the vial and a bowl, ladling caramel into the bowl. He dumped the contents of the vial in and stirred the caramel. Hopefully, it would be sweet enough—and Papyrus distracted enough—to disguise any lingering bitterness. Grabbing an apple, he cored and sliced it, artfully arranging the sliced pieces in the caramel. Whistling happily, he shouldered open the door and handed off the bowl. Papyrus snatched it from him, then lifted his chin, one brow-bone raised. “I sent a runner to fetch your explosives, sugar. They’ll be here soon enough. In the meantime…enjoy. And be sure to let me know if there’s anything else I can help you with~.”

Papyrus scowled at him, turning partially away so he could keep an eye on both Grillby and the door. Grillby smirked, watching him snatch up the first piece of apple and use it to scoop up as much caramel as possible. He sucked the sugary caramel off the apple, then scooped up more. He ate fast, like he was desperate to get it all down as quickly as possible. Grillby leaned forward and hummed in appreciation. “I do love watching a hungry monster eat my food. It’s very…” He smiled suggestively. “… _satisfying_.” Papyrus shot him a glare, then turned so Grillby couldn’t watch him eat. Grillby laughed. “Aw, sugar. Don’t be like that. I can behave myself. I promise.”

Ignoring him, Papyrus kept watch on the door and continued to eat, until the contents of the vial began to take effect. He swayed, and with a drunk’s too-careful movements, reached out to catch hold of the counter. Grillby stepped around to his side of the counter, knowing he had to catch and keep Papyrus so he couldn’t teleport. “what’s going on?”

Grillby took the bowl from his hand and set it aside. He patted him on the head, wrapping an arm around his ribcage. “A sleeping drought. Don’t worry, sugar. You’ll just wake up with a little hangover. You’ll be fine.”

“ _you_ ….“ But he was already fading. Grillby hauled him up against his chest.

“Shhh, sweetheart. Don’t fight it. Go to sleep. It’s a whole new world out there. A whole new regime.” He ran a finger over Papyrus’ jaw, smiling when he flinched. “And you’ll have a whole new role to play.”

Papyrus snarled at him, one eyelight flaring bright. He couldn’t shape his magic, couldn’t force any intent into it. It sputtered from his hand, the sparks dying out as soon as they formed. Grillby noted that and closed his hand over Papyrus’ fingers, keeping his hand closed. His snarling faded to whimpering, and Grillby hushed him again, using his free hand to pet Papyrus’ coronal suture. Against his will, Papyrus sagged in his grip and sank into his embrace. “…why…?” His voice was so soft Grillby could barely hear him.

“Why? Oh, sweetheart, it’s very simply really. Gold. It all comes down to gold.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: Drugging, implied slavery, implied sexual slavery, verbal harassment, unwanted flirting, cliffhanger (again).


	15. Unexpected allies

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Edge and Red pass through Snowdin and meet with an unexpected ally.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Content warning: off-screen implied rape, some mild abuse, choking. Spiders. If you're arachnophobic, beware of spiders.

It was easy enough to find a suitable cavern to serve as their base. This ‘verse was a simple mirror of their own, in terms of layout, so they were easily able to track down the mirror of the cavern they used to house their own machine. Red started setting up his tools and spare parts, while Edge laid out the sleeping rolls. They rolled a boulder in front of the entrance to conceal it, and Edge took the time to set up a few basic traps and trip wires for added security.

It didn’t take them long, but Red was already getting antsy. He rocked from foot to foot, fingers twitching as he waited for Edge to finish up. He didn’t try to hurry him along, though, waiting for Edge to decide their base was secure before offering a hand. “snowdin?”

“Yes.” It was as good a place to start as any. “Just outside the palisade.” Appearing inside without warning would call more attention than they wanted. They’d have enough trouble just because they were skeleton monsters, but despite their similarities, there were enough differences between Red and Razz and between Edge and Slim that no one would mistake them for their counterparts. Edge had already scratched the royal insignia off his armor, thankful that Swapfell favored purple and gold rather than red and silver. Temmie-made, the armor boosted his defense stat at minimal cost to his speed stat. He’d have regretted being forced to surrender it.

Red transported them to a clearing just out of sight of the Snowdin guards. Edge rolled his shoulders and tried to find the gutter-rat inside himself. Being a guard was dangerous right now. With the fancy armor—Temmie armor was expensive, no matter the universe—he wouldn’t be able to pass himself off as a low-level gangster, but it was almost frighteningly easy to fall into the slouch of a high-level enforcer. With only a little more effort, he started to project / MENACE / and / RAGE /, relaxing into his Fell-verse persona. He eyed Red, studying him. His smile had taken on a vicious cast, and his shoulders were hunched, hands stuffed into his pockets.

Edge caught him by the back of the neck. “You will follow my orders exactly. You understand, runt?”

“ ‘course, boss. anythin’ ya say.”

Edge frowned, but ultimately offered a gruff nod and started toward the town. “Let’s go then.” Nodding, Red hurried after him, automatically falling into place—two steps behind Edge and just to the left. They crossed the forest like that and emerged onto the road, just around the bend from Snowdin proper. Edge searched their surroundings, but he saw no signs of a waiting ambush. The air reeked of smoke, though, and now that they were out of the trees, he could hear something up ahead. As they walked, Snowdin slowly came into view. Or, what was left of it.

The palisade gate was wide open, and firelight bounced off the snow. Dark smoke billowed from the bonfire at the center of the town, and various silhouettes moved in and out of view. Voices were raised in what sounded like a combination of song and boisterous yelling. There were more than a few pained cries thrown into the mix as well, however. Edge mentally braced himself. They might call themselves rebels, but at the end of the day, they were a conquering army, and armies were rarely well behaved in victory.

“…boss…”

He held up a hand, silencing Red. “Stay close.” Red wouldn’t be worth much EXP due to his poor stats, but that didn’t mean they wouldn’t target him.

There was no checkpoint to pass, no need to come up with a story. They walked into Snowdin completely unchallenged and unheeded. The citizens were otherwise occupied. The bonfire, fed by pieces of the dismantled guardhouses leapt high. Someone had dragged several kegs of spider cider and beer out of Muffet’s bar, and the rebels were toasting their victory. One ambitious monster was auctioning off pieces of former guards’ armor and weapons. Still others had formed a ring and were gambling with their spoils. Still others—

Edge controlled his breathing and forced his gaze away, but he couldn’t silence the pleas he heard. There wasn’t anything he could do about it. He had no status here. No authority. He was vastly outnumbered. Any protest he made would only get himself, Red, and the victimized monsters killed. Nevertheless, the cries for Mercy and the rebels’ mocking laughter would haunt him for years to come.

It didn’t matter. What was one more unpleasant memory added to the list?

He swallowed and urged Red onward. Red glanced at one of the Snowbunnies being passed around— _dontthinkaboutitdontthinkaboutit—_ but maintained a neutral façade, following Edge past the revelers. As they went deeper into the town, they passed locked doors and shuttered windows, providing limited protection to the monsters inside. Muffet’s bar was open, the door torn off its hinges and the windows blown out. “Do you know where she lives?”

“think so,” he said, ducking into an alleyway. Edge followed behind him, warily eyeing the shadows. A rickety stairyway at the back of the bar led to an upstairs apartment, and they climbed it cautiously, Edge taking the lead. On the third step, he felt a thin thread break against his neck, and he paused, searching the stairway. “boss?”

He waved a hand to silence him. “Muffet?” he called. “We spoke on the phone. I’m here about…” He hesitated. No need to alert any eavesdroppers about their business. “…our mutual friend.”

For a few seconds, nothing happened. Then the door at the top of the stairs creaked open. Swapfell Muffet stood in the doorway, and for a moment, he couldn’t breathe. The way she stood, one hip cocked and one hand gripping the doorframe, was too much like _his_ Muffet. He reached out and gripped the railing, the metal freezing his palm despite the heavy gloves. It was enough to ground him in this place, this time. He looked her up and down, taking note of the differences between this Muffet and _her_.

This Muffet was slim and tall—not as tall as him, but easily six feet at least—and her features were gaunt and drawn, rather than plump and falsely pleasant. Like his Muffet, she had only two sets of true arms—the third set were thin and spindly, and they ended in a spider’s clawed paws, not hands. His Muffet usually kept them tucked into her skirt like a second set of legs, apparently ashamed of that bit of anatomy, but this Muffet left them loosely looped behind her back. Edge eyed them suspiciously. He well knew the kind of damage those claws could inflict, and he didn’t doubt that she was more than prepared to make use of them, if needed.

Her mouth was the most dramatic difference between them. Her mouthparts were more Spider-like, making it difficult for her to speak the common language. Thankfully, he understood Spider well enough to recognize the warning when she spoke, the language hissing and harsh. Gaze still fixed on Muffet, he told Red, “Mind the last step.”

“got it, boss.”

She stepped away from the doorframe, indicating that they should enter. Quickly—the cold was seeping in, and her spiders would suffer for it. Fighting his instincts with every step, he forced himself to climb the stairway. His soul hammered and magic crackled through his mana lines, at his fingertips should this encounter go badly.

Inside, the room was dramatically warmer…and filled with spiders and spiderlings. The spiders weaved their webs in the corners and rafters, but the larger spiderlings roamed the floor and countertops, resting in sleeping knots on the couches. He paused, surveying the scene. Spiders tended to be highly competitive, and while his Muffet had been able to convince them to work together without eating each other, they never would have been able to congregate like this.

She shut the door once Red was inside, and they regarded each other warily. Her gaze swept over him, and he worked not to react to it, instead cataloguing their surroundings. She spoke, and he immediately shifted to focus his attention on her, struggling to catch her words. It had been a long time since he’d last heard spoken Spider with any regularity, and his comprehension had suffered for it. Nevertheless, he was able to struggle through, catching most if not all of her words.

“Call me Edge.” He gestured to Red. “I believe you’ve met my brother.”

She nodded and pointed to the table. There was no food on it, no drink. Nothing meant to tempt or tease, nothing meant to allude to a closer bond between them. “ _Sit._ ”

He considered his options. If he sat, he’d be in a weaker position, but it would also signal a greater willingness to cooperate, and if she had information, he didn’t want her to think he was irascible or uncooperative. Or unwilling to bargain. Looking to Red, he made a fast gesture with his hand, meant to signal that Red should keep close and be ready to teleport. He followed Muffet to the table and sat across from her. Red came to stand at his back, a hidden hand resting on his shoulder blade. “What do you know?”

“ _I already told you everything.”_

“Sometimes, a second telling can reveal more details.” She eyed him suspiciously, and he forcibly reminded himself that she wasn’t a suspect being interrogated. She was a witness and…close to the victim, no matter how uncomfortable that idea made him. “Please. We want to find him just as badly as you do,” he said, “He’s an ally.”

“a friend,” Red burst out. Edge raised a hand to silence him, but Muffet softened slightly when she heard that.

Lacing her fingers together, she leaned forward and spoke slowly for his benefit, However, nothing she said revealed more information, and she had no further details for him. Slim had gone to New Home and they had no way of contacting him. He hadn’t teleported back, which meant he was either in hiding or too injured to risk it. Or….

Edge studied her, listening to all the things she _wasn’t_ saying as well. “You think he’s still alive.” Her spine straightened and she lifted her chin, but she didn’t say anything. Red’s fingers curled under his armor, gripping as if he needed something to cling to. “Why? What else do you know?”

She looked away from them, one hand curling into a loose fist atop the table. At his back, Red was nearly vibrating. “he trusted you, you _bitch_. if you know something and you’re not telling us—“

“Runt!” Red growled, but he said nothing more. Muffet’s fist had tightened, revealing the thin white bands on her knuckles where the two outer carapaces met. “Do you know something more?” Edge asked, “Are you willing to help us? Or should we go elsewhere?”

Her jaw twitched. Then, slowly, she said, “ _There is a mark on his back. My mark._ ” Red went stiff as a ramrod, and Edge exhaled slowly, pushing away a memory that threatened to rise up. “ _I know that he is alive. I also know that he’s in pain._ ”

Edge and Red exchanged look. “I see.” Edge leaned back, his hands lightly clasped and resting under his chin. He motioned for Red to lean forward so he could whisper in his ear. “Do you trust her?”

Red snorted. “no. but…slim did.”

With a nod, Edge turned his attention back to Muffet. Her features were drawn, her expression strained. Did she truly care for Slim? Or was it merely an act? So hard to judge in only one meeting. ~~So hard to put any faith in someone that shared the same face as his abuser~~. But if Slim had trusted her enough to let her mark him…. “We both have our particular talents, and we both want to find Slim,” he said after several careful minutes of consideration. “I suggest we combine our efforts and work together.”

“ _What’s in it for you?_ ”

Edge smiled slightly. She’d just tipped her hand, and he liked what it said about her. “As I already said, Slim is an ally. A valuable one.” Whether he realized it or not. “We want him returned to us safely.”

“ _Am I supposed to believe your actions are altruistic?”_

Edge shrugged. “I’m not opposed to a little compensation for our efforts. 100G and we’ll offer our aid.”

“ _That’s all?_ ”

“We’re only offering our assistance; we don’t work for you. You don’t get to call the shots.”

“ _1000G and I—_ “

“No. 100G. There isn’t enough gold in the Underground to convince us to work for you. We work together as equals or not at all. Is that clear?”

Her jaw twitched. “ _Fine. Where do you suggest we start?”_

He eyed her spiders. “First, we need to find him. Fortunately, you have a ready-made spy network at your fingertips. My brother and I can get them into position easily enough.”

She pressed her fingertips to her mouth. “ _Hotland will be dangerous for them. They need to stay hidden, or Grillby’s fire sprites will pick them off.”_

“I imagine they’ll find a way to stay out of sight.”

She nodded and stood, starting to instruct her spiders and the spiderlings. Edge turned to Red, whose features had gone still and stiff, his smile mask-like. “How many shortcuts do you think you can take?”

He cocked his head, considering. “10 if ‘s jus’ me. maybe 6 if i’ve got comp’ny.”

Edge nodded, doing some calculations. “We’ll check the house, then. If it’s cooled off enough, I want you to start moving what’s left of the machine. I’ll handle the spiders.”

Red’s eyelights flared. “ _boss_ —“

“That wasn’t a question, runt. It was an order.” He stood and turned to Muffet. “I’ll be back shortly. We have other business to see to while you instruct your spiders.” She nodded and they saw themselves out, braced for the cold. They skipped the top step and started down. When they reached the bottom, Red slid in front of him, cheekbones flushed and teeth grit. He obviously had something to say, but Edge pressed a finger to his teeth. Then he made a quick gesture with his hands, a generic sign for ‘watch what you say’.

Red swallowed hard, but his gaze traveled back to Muffet’s door. Good. He’d caught on—it would be foolish to speak too freely, when it would have been easy enough for Muffet to send them off with a small hitchhiker set to spy. “i didn’ come with ya jus’ ta put the fuckin’ machine tagether, boss.”

“If you don’t put it together, then who will?” He marched on, checking their surroundings as they made their way to the remains of Razz and Slim’s house.

“i ain’t gonna let ya wander ‘round with nuthin’ but a bunch a’ spiders ta watch yer back!”

Edge caught Red by the collar and hauled him up, leaving him dangling so the tips of his toes barely touched the ground. “Did you or did you not agree to follow my orders?”

Red choked, feet scrambling for purchase. “i did, but—“

He twisted the collar, cutting off his air. “Then why, exactly, do you think this is up for debate?”

He loosened his hold just enough for Red to breathe. “it’s not. i know ‘s not, but boss—“

Another twist. “Are you questioning my ability to handle myself? Are you concerned for my safety?”

“n-no, i just—“

“Then what’s the problem, runt?”

“no problem, boss,” he finally said, “i’ll do what ya say.” Edge dropped him unceremoniously, ignoring the way his soul pulsed when his brother stumbled.

“Good.” They proceeded in silence after that, taking back alleys to avoid the roaming rebels. They reached the ruins of the Swapfell brothers’ house without running into trouble, but Edge held up a hand, forcing Red to wait while they watched one of the rebels piss on the ashes. Edge sneered. Fleshy monsters were absolutely disgusting. Thankfully, he stumbled away after that—drunk, to judge by his gait.

They stepped out of the shadows when he was gone, casually approaching the burnt out remains of the house. The snow around it had melted, leaving the rock floor bare in front of them. The whole second floor had collapsed, and the burnt support beams had fallen into a heap, though a few beams still stood like forlorn sentinels. The roof was completely burned away. Heat still emanated from the ruins, hot enough to discourage looters. But skeleton monsters were more resilient than fleshy monsters.

They crossed to the rear of the house. There was no door anymore, just a pit opening into the basement. The steps, thankfully, were concrete, and they seemed to have survived the fire. The machine was still standing, but it definitely looked singed. Picking their way through the smoking debris, Edge brought his scarf up to shield his mouth and nose, trying to keep out the oddly chemical smell. More than wood had burned in the fire.

“How is it?”

Red circled the machine, kicking it once. A panel popped open and he looked inside, cursing under his breath. “the wiring’s fucked. gonna have ta replace it.” He tugged on another panel, revealing the glow of a human soul. Edge often wondered if the Tale-verse monsters knew what it was the enabled the machine to cross time and space the way it did. Sans certainly did. He’d completed the first machine and taught Red how to repair their own. But Rus and Blue and Paps? Edge doubted they had any idea. “soul’s fine. but if we’re takin’ it out ta the cave, we’ll need a generator.”

Edge nodded. A generator wouldn’t be hard to find. They wouldn’t even need to steal it. The power Underground was often iffy, so most monsters kept a generator on hand. Just in case. “Good. Take it back to the cave and get started. You should have enough gold to buy any supplies you need. Don’t push yourself—if you’re getting low on magic, head back to our base and work on the machine. I want you to have enough magic for at least two shortcuts at all times—“

“aw, boss—“

“If we find Slim, I need you ready and available to teleport to our location and teleport back.” That shut him up. Edge met his eyelights. “I want the machine completed as soon as possible, ready to receive us when we find him. This is your first priority, runt. Am I clear?”

If he could be sure they were alone—truly alone—he would have said more, would have been gentler. But Red could see that in his eyelights. He flattened a hand against the machine. “yeah. got it, boss. it’ll be ready fer ya. soon as ya find ‘im, i’ll be ready.”

“Good.” He eyed the machine. “I’ll leave you to it, then. I have some spiders to deliver.”

Red hesitated. “…don’ trust her, boss.”

“Of course not, but we’d be foolish to discard her. So long as she’s useful to us, we’ll continue to work with her.”

Red still didn’t look happy with that, but he nodded curtly. “got it, boss. an’…good luck.”

He scoffed, climbing back up the stairs. “I don’t need _luck_. I have skill and intelligence.”

That at least earned him a fond chuckle. “take the luck anyway. ain’t gonna hurt nuthin’.”

“Until it turns bad,” Edge said, but Red couldn’t hear him. He’d already teleported away with the machine. Edge brushed the ash off his armor, though he only ended up smearing it across the black metal. Bracing himself, Edge headed back to Muffet’s lair. It wasn’t going to be pleasant carting a couple hundred spiders in his armor, but it wouldn’t be the first time he’d done it. With luck, though, this would be the last. It would also give him a chance to scout the rest of Swapfell and see how the rebellion had changed their Underground.

Briefly, he cast his mind to Muffet’s words—Slim was alive, but in pain. There was no time to waste, then. They had to find him, and he readied himself to do just that.

**Author's Note:**

> Feel free to go yell at me on my Tumblr.
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> [@itsladykit](https://itsladykit.tumblr.com/)
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> I post story updates, writing advice, reblog art, and sometimes answer random-ass questions. 18+ please, just for my own peace of mind. (Blog is largely SFW, though.)


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